Chaos Rising
by Deus Vult
Summary: COMPLETE! Fighters from the Earth Republic and Mobian Federation launch sneak attacks on each other's territory. Both sides deny responsibility, as a mysterious terrorist group known as Black Fist manipulates things from the background. AU, OCs galore
1. Distress Call

**Introduction**

_Chaos Rising_ was originally intended to be posted chapter-by-chapter on the Sonic World message boards. Unlike my other fanfic, _The Broken Mirror, Chaos Rising_ was originally intended to only be on SWMB until someone asked me to post it in an archive. Again unlike _The Broken Mirror,_ _Chaos Rising_ features a feature common in SWMB fics: a very extreme Alternate Universe setting. Like many SWMB fics, canon characters and events are rarely if ever referenced in _Chaos Rising_ and people wanting to see Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, et al will be disappointed. I put this in because I know there's going to be **someone** who will pop up in a review and way "BUT WHEREZ SONIK!111". To answer that question: He's not here. Sorry.

In the tradition of SWMB fics, the characters are all either my creations or those of other SWMB users. All characters not my creation are used with the permission of their creators. Here is a list of the characters borrowed from other people and the SWMB usernames of the people who created them:

Lt. Commander Rex Christensen and Connie Christensen were created by **Rex540.**

Commander Riptos Calavera (and family) were created by **Riptos Fujibayashi.**

Lt. Daniel "Deathwish" Wishmaster was created by **Tom.**

Lord Admiral Kryche Akwarus was created by **The#2RY.**

Fiz was created by **Fiz the Ancient.**

Takeo Sekaro and Bookshire Draftwood were created by **Chacron.**

Lt. Skitz Anderson was created by **PaintGamma. **

Please note that this list is not necessarily set in stone. Changes will be made to this section if and when it is necessary.

A warning to sensitive folks: This fic is comparable in intensity to an R-rated movie. There is cursing, violence, blood, gore, and some sexual themes (but no explicit material). I didn't rate it M for nothing.

**Prologue: Distress Call**

_"Hear!  
From this day forth  
Are the heights of Horeb broken  
And the sea of sulfur ice_

_And blasphemy!  
In heaven's chambers  
The souls had fled their halls  
And closed was the book of life  
And behold!"_  
--Arcturus - The Throne of Tragedy

Four starfighters streaked across the space surrounding Orbital Station Twelve near the planet Mobius, their engine trails streams of blue fire. This was just another ordinary patrol for Commander Riptos Calavera, one of many he had conducted during his twenty years as a Mobius Navy fighter pilot.

"Calavera to OS 12. Nothing anomalous on scope." There was never anything "anomalous" on scope. Even the most intrepid pirates wouldn't have the gall to operate so close to Mobius. Sometimes he wondered if all these patrols were a waste of time, but then he remembered that those patrols were likely why there were never any pirates around here.

"See anything, Rex?" he said over the comm link.

"Negative, everything is clear," said Lt. Commander Rex Christensen, Riptos' wingman. Rex was the best pilot in the squadron aside from Riptos himself, confident and cool under fire.

"Why are we even out here anyway? There's no action here. They might as well stick blue lights on our ships and have us hand out speeding tickets," came the voice of Lieutenant Daniel Wishmaster. Lt. Wishmaster, or "Deathwish" as he was called, was cocky and exuberant, with an opinion of himself that far exceeded his actual piloting skills. Still, he was a good pilot, good enough to get into Riptos' elite squadron.

"Shut up, Deathwish," said Riptos. "If anyone wanted your opinion you'd be promoted to Lord Admiral."

"Hold on," said Rex, an excited edge to his voice. "I'm picking up a hyperspace jump signature. I've got a commercial freighter on radar, just exited hyperspace. It's heavily damaged, with two hull breaches. Damn, that thing's going fast. It's as if it's trying to get away from someone."

"Life signs?" said Riptos.

"Four. They're sending out a transmission, signal is sporadic."

A garbled message reached Riptos' ears. A man was screaming unintelligibly over the sound of static.

"That guy sounds like he's in trouble," said Deathwish.

"No shit, Sherlock," said Riptos. "All right, boys, move in to intercept. Close to 2000 meters."

"Affirmative," said Rex.

The four fighters quickly accelerated to meet the damaged freighter. As they approached, Riptos heard another transmission, this time with a stronger signal.

"Mayday! Mayday!" came the voice of the man who sent the last transmission. "This is Adrian Spencer of t-bzzzt-eighter Independence req-zzzz-ing immediate assistance. We-zzz-re under attack. Requesting immediate fighter cover and escort!"

"This is Commander Riptos Calavera of the 17th Green Dragons. We are here to assist. Who is attacking you?"

"We were heading back to Mobius when we were jumped by Earth fighters! I swear it's true! Earth Republic fighters just came out of nowhere and started shooting! We've lost our shields and three crewmen, including the captain. I'm sure they're tracking us. Oh, gods, help us!"

"Calm down, sir. We're going to escort you to Orbital Station 12. Just sit tight. Are you sure Earth ships attacked you?"

"Yes! We got visual, radar, electronics, it all matched! The flight recorder will tell you everything."

"All right, just calm down and--"

"Reading two more hyperspace signatures," said Rex. "Signatures match specifications for Earth Republic Exocet-class fighters. They're approaching the freighter on an attack vector."

"Engage the enemy."

"Are you sure? We could start a war by doing this."

"I said engage the goddamn fighters! I will not stand by and watch civilians die!"

"Affirmative. Moving in to attack."

The Mobian fighters hit their afterburners, streaking towards the Earth ships with particle cannons blazing. One of the Earth fighters exploded as particle beams raked across its hull.

"Target eliminated," said Lieutenant Jeffrey Nilman.

Riptos swerved just as an Earth fighter whipped by him to give chase to Deathwish. He pulled up behind the bogey and fired off a precise salvo of particle blasts, shredding the Earth fighter into a cloud of debris.

"That makes two down," said Riptos. "Form up on the freighter. Let's see what's really going on."

--

Riptos sat across the table from the crewman who had sent the distress call. Adrian Spencer, as he had identified himself, looked visibly distraught, trembling somewhat and picking dead skin off his fingers. He was a reddish-brown hedgehog in his early twenties with short spines and bright blue eyes that were wide with fear.

"We reviewed your flight recorder, Mr. Spencer, and it corroborates your explanation of what happened. Analysis of the damage to your ship was consistent with the effects of particle cannon weaponry. However, this raises the question of what you were doing to get Earth fighters chasing you."

"I swear we were doing nothing wrong! We were returning home after shipping electronics equipment to Centauri IV. When we got to the outer edges of the Mobius system, a couple of Earth fighters attacked us. I'm no pirate. I work as a ship's hand every winters for a living. Review my registration if you don't believe me."

"All right, I'll look at your records. Now tell me, from the beginning, what happened to you and your ship."

Adrian ran his fingers through the spines on his head and reached back through the past few hours, remembering how he came to be here, on a space station, being interrogated by a Mobius Navy officer.


	2. Origin of Chaos

**Chapter 1: Origin of Chaos**

_"The distance too great  
For you to hear our cries  
Never mind take this lamp  
We are beyond light_

_We learned so little  
Of inhuman culture  
Before disappearance  
Went right through us"_  
--Arcturus - Kinetic

Adrian lay in his bunk on the freighter Independence, his bank balance 100,000 credits larger than it was yesterday. He had signed on with the freighter as a technician three months ago, and now he would soon be back on Mobius, the winter shipping season over. Even in the twenty-third century, seasons were still reckoned based on the climate of Earth's northern hemisphere. The winter season was always at a different time of year on Mobius, which had a shorter year than Earth.

He reached into the drawer under his bed and pulled out a bottle of pills. They were formulated to prevent the atrophy of muscles and bones, always a constant danger in a ship with artificial gravity only in the crew areas, and even then only partial gravity. He pulled out a pill and swallowed it. The pills were made to be easily swallowed without wasting water, which was precious on a small starship. Even the crew's urine was recycled and purified.

He looked down at his hands. They were clean for the first time in months, the crew allowed to take showers with the remaining water on board. Commercial ships were often filthy places, and with severe restrictions on water use, regular hygiene was not an option. The term "grease monkey" for technicians took on a very literal sense on star-freighters. But the shower still did not banish the mats and lice in his fur. At least he was paid handsomely to get filthy and live in a flying tin can for a third of the year.

Drew Faulkner, the ship's chief engineer, came into the bunkroom and came over to Adrian's bunk. "Everything all right?" the cheerful, ruddy-faced human said as knelt next to Adrian.

"Yeah. How long will it be till we get home?"

"Twelve hours, maybe fourteen. I was just stopping by to deliver a letter from your girlfriend."

"Hmmm," said Adrian. "I think the only reason we're still together is because I make a lot of money doing this. She thinks I'm crazy working on a ship four months a year like this."

"We're all a little crazy in this business," Drew said with a chuckle as he rubbed Adrian between the ears. "Here's the letter." Drew handed Adrian an envelope.

"Uh-huh," said Adrian as he opened the envelope. When he read the letter, his face fell:

_Dear Adrian,_

_After considering our situation, I have decided now would be a good time to terminate our relationship. I just can't live anymore with someone who goes away four months out of the year onto a filthy, wretched, horrible little starship and returns looking like a concentration-camp refugee. To be cut off from you a third of the time like this and to have you just lying around for the rest of the year is not a sustainable lifestyle for me, no matter how much money you make._

_Perhaps even worse than when you are away is just after you come back, when you have matted fur and fleas and can't stand up because you haven't experience gravity in four months. Why do you put me through this? Are you so obsessed with a paycheck that you'll torture yourself and me for a hundred thousand? So maybe it might not be easy or even possible for you to make this kind of money without a college education, but you don't have to make six figures._

_When you settle down and get a normal job, I'll gladly come back. But right now, you can find someone else to scrub the bugs out of your fur. Call me back when you get a civilized career._

_Yours,_

_Nadia_

Adrian threw the letter to the floor. Drew immediately picked it up. "What's wrong?" he said as Adrian sighed.

"My girl dumped me because she doesn't like my job She says I should get a "civilized" job, as if slaving in front of a desk is a great way to live."

"Sometimes people are like that. It's not like there aren't enough women to go around."

Adrian sighed again. "Yeah, but we had been together for two years. It will take a long time to build a new relationship like that. I think I want to be alone now."

"I understand." Drew turned around and left the room.

Adrian rolled onto his side, contemplating his rejection by the woman he had given his virginity to and cherished like nothing else in his life. He would have proposed to her when he returned. Now those dreams had crumbled to dust.

He immediately drove away the tears that wanted to well up in his eyes. He refused to cry. Men didn't cry. He never regarded himself as a macho he-man, but he felt it shameful to shed tears even in private. He crumpled up the letter and threw it against the wall as hard as he could. Damn her. Damn her for throwing him away like a bag of rotten vegetables. Damn her to hell.  
He needed someone to take care of him while he readjusted to full gravity. The pills only provided marginal protection against muscle and bone loss, and Mobius had the second highest gravity of all the inhabited planets. He decided he would give the local hospital a call when the ship touched down. It wasn't like he didn't have money.

He felt a shudder run through the ship, and knew that the freighter had just dropped out of hyperspace. The window shutters open, revealing a black expanse studded with stars. The ship would go the rest of the way at sublight speed. Adrian reasoned that now would be as good a time as any to go to sleep, even though it was three in the afternoon. He removed his technician's coverall, hanging it on the bars of the bunk above him, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders, curling up slightly as he let himself relax completely. He watched the unchanging black void out the windows. Relative to Mobius, the ship was traveling at a speed most easily expressed as a fraction of the speed of light, but the stars were so far away that the ship appeared to be still.

He rolled around a few times, trying to find the most comfortable position. Sleep was not coming easily to him, his mind haunted by thoughts of Nadia and of seeing real, honest-to-God land for the first time in four months--he never followed the shuttles planetside during cargo deliveries.

He felt another shudder run through the freighter's frame, but this one was a violent, gut-wrenching, sudden one that nearly threw him out of bed, accompanied by a horrendous bang. Another bang, and the ship shook again, while a klaxon sounded and the ceiling lights flashed red. Red lights meant only one thing--they were taking fire.

He quickly got up and got his coverall down from the bunk above. Drew came into the room just as he started to put it on.

"Holy hell, did you feel that?" said Drew. "Someone's shooting at us!"

"Tell me something I don't know," said Adrian, using the blanket to conceal his naked body as he got dressed. "So much for my nap." When he was finished dressing, he followed Drew out, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He felt the cold metal floor beneath his unshod feet, but there was no time to put his shoes on.

Within moments, he was standing in the ship's bridge, the captain frantically screaming a distress call into the transmitter.

"Don't even bother, captain," said Drew. "There's no one out here. We need to get to hyperspace now! Who's firing on us?"

"I'm picking up two Earth Republic Exocet-class fighters," said Captain Morgan Stephanopoulos. "They just popped out of nowhere and started shooting. I have no ide--"

The captain was cut off by the loudest bang yet, as the whole ship trembled as like an epileptic having a seizure.

"Hull breach in sector B!" shouted Percy Eriksson, the other technician on the ship aside from Adrian. Adrian rarely saw Percy as they alternated shifts, with Adrian sleeping as Percy worked. They had both had light duty today, but there was no more time to relax.

"Was anyone in that sector?" asked the captain.

"Yes. Jeff and Wesley were in there," said Percy, referring to the first mate and one of the cargo handlers.

Everyone on the bridge fell silent. Drew made the sign of the cross. After a few seconds of silence, the captain spoke again. "Hyperdrive is now ready. Let's get the hell out of here before more of us meet the same fate. Punch it, Percy!"

The ship rocked from another direct hit just as it jumped into hyperspace. Adrian looked into the swirling multicolored expanse, the floor chilling his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as he wondered whether he would ever return alive.


	3. Coming of Chaos

**Chapter 2: Coming of Chaos**

Gravity was a bitch. Adrian had been weightless or in partial gravity for four months, and the 11 meters per second squared of force of artificial gravity pulling down on him made breathing, let alone moving, laborious. He had sat up with the help of a brace while being questioned by that naval officer, but now he lay in bed, feeling helpless and pathetic. The buzzer on the bedside table only reinforced this. The readjustment to gravity was always terrible, but it was part of being a spacer.

He had two pieces of gauze in his mouth where the station's dentist extracted two of his teeth that had decayed beyond help during the long voyage. The dentist had gone on about how this line of work was bad for his teeth because there was hardly any water for hygiene on a freighter, and that if he kept at it he would lose all his teeth a few at a time. He didn't really care. If he lost his teeth, he could get implants that would probably function better than the originals. A raw, hammering pain filled his upper jaw, the nerves in the tooth beds flooding his nervous system with pain signals after the teeth were wrenched out.

He picked up the phone next to his bed. Perhaps he could convince Nadia that there was still a future between them. It was definitely a long shot. He couldn't get rid of his love for her, but he knew that their ideas of a good life were completely different.

He dialed the number and waited for her to respond. After a few seconds, he heard her voice on the other end. "Hello?" she said.

"Hi, Nadia. This is Adrian. I'm on Orbital Station 12. My ship had a problem and we docked here instead of on Mobius."

"Oh, then yours must be the ship that was mysteriously attacked by Earth fighters."

"How did you know that?"

"How could I not? It's all over the news. And judging from the tone of your voice, I would presume that you got my letter. This is exactly why I decided to break up with you. Your life is nothing but trouble, running around the galaxy sending packages to Planet Bumfuck. And when those big shipping corporations put their big noses in the wrong business, things like this happen. You should be glad you're still alive."

"This is the only time in history that the Earth Republic has ever attacked civilian shipping from Mobius."

"Yeah? When's the second time going to be? The third? The fourth? Why don't you settle down and get a real job?"

"This is a 'real job'. Interstellar trade is an important element of our economy, and this line of work pays a lot of money, money that can be spent for our children's future."

"Which means jack when your future is suddenly cut off. 'Mommy, what happened to Daddy?' 'Nothing, he just got himself _blown up!_'"

"This is not a high-risk business. The incident earlier was likely a misunderstanding that will be resolved diplomatically."

"Bullshit! You're stuck in a hunk of metal flying through a vacuum. If that hunk of metal gets a hole in it, you're deader than dead. Not a high-risk business my tail. And as for those children you mentioned, don't forget that for a third of the time, you won't be around to help raise them. Do you really think that's healthy?"

"Career military officers seem to raise families just fine."

Nadia laughed. "Yeah, and pigs have wings. Now there's an even better way for Daddy to get blown up. Those fighter jocks who escorted you back to the station? What's going to happen to them in twenty years?"

"We haven't had a war in almost a century."

"Wars are a matter of when, not if. Look, why don't you just settle down and find an eight-hour job for a decent company on Mobius where you won't have to lie in bed hardly able to breathe. I bet you're probably feeling pretty bad right now, just like every time you come back to an environment with gravity."

"It will pass in a few days."

"A few days in which you become an invalid. If I wanted to live with an invalid, I'd work at a nursing home."

"That's a really mean-spirited sentiment."

"Is it? Is it any meaner than putting me through this? We're through, Adrian. You can plead all you want, but I'm not going to come back for you. Good-bye." Adrian heard the click as she hung up.

He dropped the receiver to the floor. It was now obvious she wanted nothing more to do with him. He had to move on. Damn her again.

He pulled the covers up over his bare chest, feeling even more lonely and helpless than before. If only the buzzer would summon a shrink instead of a medical technician.

--

Rex looked over at the doorway as Riptos came into the command bunkroom. The room was reserved for a squadron leader and his wingman, doubling as an office and command center for the squadron as well as living quarters. The other members of the squadron slept in one large room down the hallway from the command room.

"Hey, Rip, found any information on the incident with the Earth fighters?"

"Not really. We questioned a few guys we brought off the ship but they denied knowledge of why they were attacked."

"This is seriously fucked up. A civilian freighter, whose crews don't seem like they were up to anything, suddenly pops up in the 61 Virginis system chased by a bunch of Earth fighters. How did those fighters get so far into Mobian space? The nearest Earth system would take 20 days to reach from here. It doesn't make sense."

"I agree that this is a strange sequence of events, but a freighter did indeed pop up near Mobius being chased by Earth fighters. So unless you're willing to deny an event with multiple eyewitnesses that include yourself, we have to work from the information that we have."

"You know, I was once thinking of retiring from the navy and taking a job on a freighter because of the pay, but now that I've seen the condition of those guys who came out, I wouldn't even consider it anymore."

Riptos laughed and patted Rex on the back. "Well now you know why they make so much money--no one would do it for less."

"Some people will do anything for money."

Riptos yawned. "Damn, this has been a long day," he said.

"A crazy one too." The two of them laughed together.

Riptos stretched, removed his shoes and pulled off his shirt. Rex stood up as the older hedgehog began to climb up the ladder to his bunk. "Going to sleep already?" said Rex. "It's barely past 2000 hours."

"Yeah. Going to make some use of all the extra free time we fighter pilots get."

"Suit yourself, but I'm leaving the light on."

"Then I'll just pull the blanket over my head."

"You can be a lazy bastard sometimes, you know that?"

"So sue me." Riptos snickered and pulled the covers over himself, waiting for the embrace of sleep to take him.

--

"What's the point of this so-called observation post when there ain't no goddamn thing to observe?" said Petty Officer Christian Boyd as he lit up a cigarette. Today was just another day on Earth Republic observation post P-42, another long, slow, boring, soul-crushing day. Getting assigned to a backwater like this was practically the kiss of death for an Earth navy man's career. P-42 sat at the border of Earth and Mobian space, a border that had lain undisturbed for decades.

"Who knows, who cares?" said Ensign Jaime Gutierrez. "Just think about it this way: There's no way in hell you gonna die out here unless something seriously fucked up happens. Border observation posts--the safest places in the fuckin' universe."

"The most boring ones, too. I've seen infomercials that are more exciting than this place."

"That's 'cuz you're boring. Play video games. Read the newspaper. Get laid. You never do anything."

"I tried the getting laid part but I couldn't find anyone to get laid by."

"Maybe if you bribe Commander Kwan, you can shoot asteroids with one of the gun turrets."

"Perhaps after loading her into the barrel first."

"Now that's a good idea if I ever heard one." Gutierrez made a "psssshhht" sound to indicate a gun firing.

Petty Officer Boyd suddenly noticed flashing blue blips on the radar desplay? "The hell? I've got a shitload of new blips on the radar."

"Say what? Let me see."

The radar was peppered with dozens of blue dots indicating hyperspace jump signatures.

"That's a lot of ships," said Boyd.

"A whole lot of ships."

"They're dropping into realspace now. Sensors have a positive match for Mobian starfighters, eighty of them. They're headed straight for us."

"What in the fuck?"

A klaxon sounded as the station went to full alert. "Alert, alert," came a deadpan computer voice. "Armed ships approaching station on attack vector. All hands to battle stations immediately."

"There's your fucking excitement," said Gutierrez.

The two spacers broke into a run just as explosions rocked the whole length of the station.

"Holy shit!" said Boyd. "They're firing at us!"

The station's own guns fired back, but it was too little, too late. Eighty Mobian fighters dashed around the station, pouring fire into its hull. The station had been taken completely by surprise and was now helpless against the onslaught. A salvo of nuclear missiles punched through the hull and gutted the station from end to end. Boyd and Gutierrez barely had time to scream before they were incinerated.


	4. Militant Reprisal

**Chapter Three: Militant Reprisal**

Sleep faded away as Riptos felt himself being shaken gently. He heard Rex's voice in his ears. "Hey! Rip! Wake up!" the younger man said.

Riptos groaned and opened his eyes. "Unnnhhhh, Rex, why'd'ja wake me up?"

"You've got to see what's on the news! You know that attack on that freighter yesterday? The Earth Republic said we did the same thing to them, and they're absolutely furious!"

"Nothing like a political shitstorm in the morning, I guess at three in the morning the way I feel." Riptos moaned again as he sat up. He dragged himself over to the edge of his bunk and began to climb the ladder down.

Rex stood behind him to catch him if he fell in his half-conscious stupor. He sat down next to Riptos on the bottom bunk and hooked an arm around his shoulders for support. Rex pulled a large chalky-looking pill out of his pocket and handed it to Riptos. It was a fast-acting caffeine tablet, designed to be dissolved in the mouth for faster release. Riptos put it in his mouth, already glued to the TV screen.

A human woman stood behind a desk, speaking in that flat, almost robotic tone affected by newscasters whether they were talking about a comedy act or the apocalypse. "We come to you with this breaking story," she began. "At 8:06 interstellar time, eighty fighters believed to be of Mobian origin launched a sneak attack on observation post P-42. The station was destroyed within seconds and all 1,632 of the station crew are dead or missing. The Earth Republic Congress has condemned this action. We go now to the senate chamber for the senators' reactions."

Riptos sat up straighter. "I don't think I'll be sleeping anymore tonight," he said.

A woman in a navy blue suit stood almost impossibly straight behind a podium, her face set in an expression of fury. "Six hours ago, an observation post on the edges of Earth space was senselessly and brutally attacked, resulting in the deaths of every man and woman aboard. This act of utmost savagery is almost certainly the doing of the Mobian Confederation. We even have scans of the attacking fighters to prove it."

Riptos' eyes widened slightly.

"The Earth Republic Congress has unanimously voted to condemn this attack and its perpetrators. We are considering options to redress this shocking act of cruelty, possibly including military action. Earth will not tolerate the wanton destruction of our assets and people. This is an outrage of the highest order."

Riptos shook his head. "I bet you more than anything this has everything to do with the attack on that freighter."

"Hell, I think it's the same guys responsible for both," said Rex.

"Yeah, but can you prove that in a war crimes tribunal?"

"You have a point."

"I don't like our chances in a war. We have fewer systems, a smaller navy, fewer resources, and no long-established planet like Earth with a millenia-long history of civilization. Mobius itself has been inhabited for, what, four hundred years?"

"Hey, at least you'll get some action before the brass shove you out the door."

Riptos nodded. At the age of forty-three, he was only two years away from the mandatory retirement age for a fighter pilot. He had passed his prime a long time ago, and the inexorable process of aging was steadily wearing him down. He wondered if he had acquired a couple more gray spines just thinking about it.

He felt Rex pat him on the back. "Cheer up, Rippy. I'm sure you'll be able to find a nice civilian job after you have to retire. You might even be offered a captaincy, and then you'll be able to stay in the navy until you come apart at the seams, on your very own starship. Even if the Earthers go to war, win, and occupy us, it's not like they're going to drag fighter pilots before a judge and hang them."

Riptos sighed. "This career has meant so much to me, and even being a captain wouldn't be quite the same. I've been doing this ever since I got out of the monastery on Orososh. And I'm sure no company would hire someone as old as me as a pilot." Riptos stood up. "I think I'm gonna go take a shower. Maybe that will feel better."

"Go ahead," said Rex. "We still have a couple more hours to kill before 0430. I'll probably take one myself when you're finished."

"You know what one of the great things about being in the command group of a squadron?" said Riptos. "Being able to take a shower by yourself."

Rex laughed and lay back on his bunk as Riptos went into the en-suite bathrom.

--

The stress headache Adrian had had for the last couple of months seemed twice as bad now, and it mingled with the myriad symptoms of gravity readjustment to produce pure unadulterated misery. He had just watched news coverage of the attack on outpost P-42 and it was like his worst nightmare come true. A bunch of people who appear to be Earthers attack Mobians. A bunch of people who appear to be Mobians attack Earthers. It was like some witch cooked up a brew for interstellar war.

He looked up as a nurse entered the room. "Hello, Mr. Spencer," she said as she scratched him behind the ears. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," said Adrian. "And please call me Adrian."

"That's fine."

"And could you get me some more painkillers? My chest is killing me."

"You're already on the maximum safe dosage. It would be dangerous for us to give you more." The nurse laid a hand on Adrian's chest and rubbed below his collarbones. Adrian relaxed a little under the treatment.

"Could you get me a glass of water?" said Adrian.

"Of course." The nurse left for a few minutes before returning with a glass of water. Adrian took it and gulped it down eagerly.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. You should get some rest now," she said. "We'll start your physical therapy tomorrow."

"Sure," said Adrian.

"I'll see you around noon," said the nurse. She briefly rubbed Adrian's left ear between her thumb and forefinger before leaving the room.

Adrian picked up the phone as the nurse left the room, the soothing feeling of her touch quickly fading. He put in the code for the Earth Republic, then, the planet code, then the region code, then the area code, then the number. The series of prefixes was longer than the number itself by far.

"Hello?" he said over the phone.

"Adrian? Is that you?" said his adoptive mother, Natalie Spencer. Adrian had been adopted as an infant by a human couple.

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to you now because there's a good chance the Earth Republic and Mobian Confederation could go to war, and this may be the last chance I have to talk to you for a long time."

"Are you referring to the attack on the frontier outpost last night"  
"Yes. There's a lot of ugly talk on both sides. My freighter got attacked by what seemed to be Earth fighters a few hours before that attack. Two of the crew were killed. The Mobian government is absolutely outraged."

"Oh my God! Are you alll right?"

"Yeah, some Mobian fighters came to our rescue. I'm on a Mobian starbase. Right now I'm in the infirmary while I readjust to gravity. They say I should be strong enough to go back to Mobius in a week or so. They're going to put me in physical therapy tomorrow, and that's probably going to hurt a lot. But, as they say, no pain, no gain. And I gained a hundred thousand credits for my troubles."

"I'm just glad you're OK, honey. You make your father and me worried when you go on those ships. How will we know if you get hurt?"

"It's not as dangerous as they say it is, honest. The ships I work on stay in the safe systems. Unfortunately my girlfriend doesn't believe she. I got her break-up letter today. I tried to reason with her over the phone but she just chewed me out. I can't believe she'd just throw me away after two years together."

"Sometimes life is like that, honey. You just have to move on. Hardly anyone has a successful relationship the first time.'

"Yeah, but it's still hard to deal with. I'm still in love with her, even if she wants nothing to do with me."

"I'm sure you'll find someone new. Don't get yourself down like this, Adrian. It's not good for you."

"I guess you're right," said Adrian with a sigh. "Anyway, it's two in the morning in interstellar time, so I think I should go to sleep now."

"All right. Take care, honey."

"Bye, Mom." Adrian put the receiver back on the hook, feeling a little better than he had before. He pressed a button on the nightstand to turn off the lights, curled up under the covers, and closed his eyes. He was asleep within moments.


	5. A Match in the Powder Keg

**Chapter Four: A Match in the Powder Keg**

"_Your doom is nigh  
Though you see it not!  
Our forces ride  
And your hope will rot!_

_Lying under all (you believe)  
Is a darkness to you all (but unseen)  
Skies will be torn and rain  
On the siege of Aina!  
Terror comes!_"  
--Aina - The Siege of Aina

"All right, wake up, wake up!"

Lieutenant Daniel "Deathwish" Wishmaster was wrenched from sleep by the sound of Rex's voice booming within the junior officers' bunkroom. Rex's uniform was immaculately pressed and perfectly straight, as usual, but his posture and the look in his eyes betrayed the fact that the lieutenant commander had not slept well.

"The government just declared a state of high alert, so we're going to be working longer shifts, starting today. Right now it's 0600. I want you washed up, dressed, and ready to go by 0700. Move it, soldiers!"

Deathwish climbed down from his bunk and walked towards the locker room, following the other nine junior members of the 53rd Crusaders.

"You should've seen the news last night, D," said Lieutenant Jeffrey "Pinky" Nilman, who was walking alongside him. He was a tall, massively built gray hedgehog with exceptionally ruddy skin, and was so large he could barely fit into the cockpit of his fighter.

"Have you been sneaking portable TVs so you can watch the news after lights-out time?"

"Maybe." Pinky winked at him. "Anyway, The Earth Republic has accused us of sending several squadrons of fighters to destroy one of their border outposts."

Deathwish's muzzle turned pale. "What? Are you serious?"

"Yes. They're talking about possibly going to war with us."

Deathwish gulped. There would be no way the Mobian Federation could survive a war with the Earth Republic. The Earthers had superior numbers, resources, and technology. If things came to war, at best he would lose his career when the Earthers disbanded the Mobian military, and, of course, there was the possibility of death in combat. Now he knew why Rex looked like he hadn't had enough sleep.

He bristled as he felt Pinky run a hand down his back. "Don't do that!" he said. How many times have I told you that I'm not gay?"

"I'm just messing with you!"

"Mess with someone else." Deathwish sat down on the stool next to his locker and began to undress. "And don't gawk at me in the shower either."

Pinky flashed him a sly grin and began to remove his own clothes. Deathwish ignored him as he stashed his dirty clothes in the bottom drawer of his locker and entered the shower. He stood under one of the shower heads and turned it on, letting the hot water run over him.

"High alert, huh?" said Lieutenant Junior Grade Skitz Anderson. "Did Rex lose his Japanese cartoon collection?"

"Pinky apparently snuck a portable TV out of the common area so he could watch the news when he was supposed to be asleep. He says the Earthers think we blew up one of their space stations?"

"Whoa! Say what?"

"Yeah, and they're considering war."

"Oh, man. I hope this is just another one of his little jokes."

Deathwish sighed. "I hope so too." He flicked his eyes over to make sure Pinky wasn't gawking at anyone and returned to washing himself. He hoped what Pinky had said wouldn't true, but his gut feeling told him that it was.

--

Adrian gripped the handles of his walker so tightly that his knuckles were white. His legs, weakened by months of low gravity, could not support him without the aid of the steel walker. He carefully put one foot forward as a nurse put her arm around him in case he fell. His entire body shuddered as his bare foot touched the cold tiles. He couldn't fathom why they made the rooms so cold in a place where the inhabitants wore tiny little hospital gowns, if anything at all.

"I don't think I can do this," said Adrian.

"Just keep going. You're doing fine," said the nurse as she tightened her grip around Adrian's midsection. Adrian took another step, his legs aching as the atrophied muscles strained against gravity, and then another. After several agonizing minutes, he had managed to walk across his room and back. "I think that will be enough for right now," said the nurse as she scooped Adrian up and put him back on his bed.

"I think just about every part of my body is aching right now," said Adrian.

"Would you like me to give you a massage?"

"Yes please." He grimaced as a spasm in a back shot waves of pain through his body. "I feel like I'm going to die."

"Oh, you'll be fine. You're actually getting better faster than most people. You'll probably be able to go home in a few days."

"Could you turn up the thermostat? I feel really cold."

"Sure," the nurse said, turning the dial on the thermostat. "Is 80 degrees enough?"

"That's fine."

"I'll wait a few minutes so you can get warm before I begin." She handed Adrian a towel. "You can put that on to cover your modesty if you want."

"I'm too tired to care," Adrian said, staring up at the ceiling. He found the idea of trying to get privacy in a hospital futile. The doctors and nurses would always invade it on some pretext or another. He'd been in plenty of hospitals in his lifetime, and knew this one wasn't any different. "I'm sure you have plenty of experience around people with no clothes. It's not like you're the girl next door or anything."

The nurse laughed and scratched him behind the ears. "Are you feeling a little more comfortable now?"

"Yeah, I'm not cold anymore. You can start now."

The nurse removed Adrian's hospital gown and put some oil on her hands. The oil contained a topical painkiller that would help relieve Adrian's muscle aches. She started at his ankles, feet, and lower legs, kneading the sore muscles and rubbing the medicated oil into his skin. Adrian relaxed and closed his eyes, feeling the pain in his lower legs melt away. He purred softly as she moved up to his knees. "Uh, hey, nurse?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Have you heard about the attack on that Earth space station?"

"Yes. What about it?"

"I really hope there's not a war. The thought has been clawing at my mind ever since I heard about it."

"Don't worry so much. You should concern yourself with getting better instead of worrying about something that's going on light years away. It's not good for you to stress yourself out like this."

"Maybe," said Adrian. "But I just can't help it sometimes. People say that I'm a natural worrywart. I have a hard time taking my mind off something that distresses me."

"You're a civilian. Even if there was a war, they wouldn't do anything to you. Just rest and think about something else. Everything's going to be fine." She had by now moved to his chest and belly, and was tracing circles with her hands the patch of bare skin there. Adrian relaxed anymore, trying to dispel the thoughts swirling around his head. He could worry later.

--

"Shit, shit, shit! Go faster, damn you, _faster_!" raged Natasha Engleton at the controls of her shuttle as it struggled to keep away from her pursuers. She had been hunted for days by the terrorist group Black fist. She had proof of their complicity on the recent attacks on Mobian and Earth targets and their political intrigues within both of those star empires. It was a classic play-both-sides-against-the-middle ploy, designed to spark violence between Earth and Mobius. She would expose it. She had to, for the sake of all humans and Mobians.

The shuttle had been placed under such intense demands that its engines had suffered damage when she had tried to squeeze too much acceleration from them. Now the ship was little more than half as fast as it used to be, but she had not seen Black Fist ships in days, so she might have finally lost them. But she wasn't the one to let her guard down.

She had heard the outraged reactions and militaristic talk on both sides, horrified at the idea of a war between mankind and its creations. Humanity had created the Mobians to be friends and companions, not mortal enemies. She couldn't let a war happen. She had decided to go to Mobius as the Black Fist had much less of a presence there. On the other hand, the Mobians would have a harder time stopping the war. But going to Earth was far too risky--the Black Fist were firmly entrenched on Earth, and if she was caught she would surely die.

She had a detailed map of some recently-discovered jump points that could get her to Mobius without following major space traffic routes. The farther she stayed away from them, the better. She had purchased it from an employee of a space-surverying company. It was a much longer route--seven jumps to Mobius from the edge of the Earth Republic instead of the two required to reach Mobius via the main routes--but she had to take it.

Her copilot, Arthur Brady, was asleep in the passenger compartment of the shuttle. They took turns flying the shuttle, each taking a twelve-hour shift. Or, at least, that's what she thought. She didn't see the glimmer of metal behind her or hear the faint hum of a particle pistol charging up. She was completely absorbed in flying the shuttle--a fatal mistake.

"Goodbye, Tash, said Arthur as he walked into the cockpit and calmly shot her in the back of her head. He was a Black Fist member who had tricked her into renting his ship. Now she was dead, and the hopes of the hideous Mobian beast-race died with her. He threw her smoking corpse out of the seat and entered the self-destruct code. There was not enough fuel to turn around and return to Regulus. But no matter. His mission was finished.


	6. Avenging Angels

**Chapter Five: Avenging Angels**

_"Today we ride!  
Today all wrath abides!  
We ride to win  
We won't give in  
We'll define the meaning of victory!"_  
--Aina - Oriana's Wrath

"I'm sure you've been wondering why we've dragged you out of bed so early," said Riptos as he stood on the speaker's platform in the 53rd Avengers' briefing room. Twenty-nine other hedgehogs watched him anxiously. "Here it goes: We are on the brink of an interstellar war with the Earth Republic. The Earthers have accused us of destroying one of their starbases with several squadrons of fighters."

The room instantly erupted in commotion. Riptos raised his hand to quiet the members of his squadron. "They have video evidence, although we are still analyzing it to see if it is genuine. The Mobian Federation has declared a state of maximum alert. Forces are being mobilized throughout the Mobian Republic in preparation for an all-out offensive by the Earthers. We could be at war tomorrow--or never. Starting now, we will have patrols around Orbital Station Twelve 24/7. Our squadron will be responsible for the 0600-1400 shift. That's eight hours instead of the usual four for those of you who can't count. Your ships have been fitted with extra fuel and supplies for our longer sorties. We will be on call from 0500 to 2000 hours. During those fifteen hours, we will be ready to get to our ships and fly on a moment's notice. We can't afford to slack off most of the time like we normally do. Doing so could have worse consequences than just being mocked by the Marines." Several people in the room laughed before being silenced by glares from Riptos.

"It's a terrible truth that, if we do go to war, we will probably lose. The Earthers have more ships, more men, and more resources. But we aren't going to lie down and surrender, either. We're the 53rd fucking Avengers, cream of the Navy fighter corps crop, and we're going to make them pay for every inch of space. I expect each and every one of you to fight hard. We're not going to start this fight, but damned if we don't see it through to the finish!" Riptos was met with a rousing cheer from his subordinates.

"Now, everyone to your planes. Our patrol starts now. Come on, you sons of bitches, you wanna live forever?" The squadron members instantly stood up and followed Riptos out of the room.

--

"First war in a generation, huh?" said Rex over the comm as he followed Riptos' fighter, training his guns in various directions from which an enemy fighter could take a shot at his squadron leader. There were no enemy fighters out, but he had to be in that combat state of mind.

"If it comes, I hope it's the last," said Skitz.

"I think it will be, but not because we win it. How many ships did intel say they had? I think it was something like twelve thousand," said Pinky.

"I fail to see what good could possibly come from that line of thought right now," said Riptos. "We have a job to do out here, and we'll do it, even if they have a million ships."

"You excited, Commander?" said Deathwish.

"Yes, but also uneasy. I think there's some serious funny business going on. Neither we nor the Earthers normally do things like send fighters out to destroy a freighter or space station for no apparent reason."

"Yeah, that is pretty fucked up. Were any bodies found in the fighters we shot up?"

"Negative. Not a trace of organic matter was found. It's almost like the ships never even had pilots."

"That's just creepy beyond words."

"I know. And I bet it's just going to get stranger."

--

Admiral Felicia Townswell stood in the observation dome of the TSS _Arizona_, watching out the window with her arms behind her back. The ships of her fleet dotted the huge vista of space, massive gray slabs of metal studded with turrets and engines. Over a hundred warships were under her command, a strike force capable of devastating whole worlds. It was an awesome sight, the knuckles of mankind's armored fist.

After the Mobians' attack on outpost P-42, war seemed inevitable. The Mobians had recently started pounding their own war drums and accused Earth of attacking one of their civilian freighters. The tension between the two empires could only be resolved through violence.

The Mobian Federation was a young, bold, expansionist empire, established a mere two hundred years ago. The Mobians had originally been created by humans using human and animal genetic material as a sort of "racial parenting" experiment. Unfortunately, the experiment didn't work the way it was supposed to and the Mobians soon organized and demanded independence, breaking away from the Earth Republic. The two empires had had stable, though decidedly arm's-length relations ever since. Now recent events would bring bloodshed to the parent and child races once again. And like all parents, the Earth Republic had the advantage. They had five times as many ships and ten times the population of the Mobian Federation. Even if their ships were the same quality as those of the Mobians (and they were actually considerably superior), they would be able to crush the Mobian navy in weeks. As it stood, the war promised to be a cakewalk.

But in a way, it would be harder than the last few wars the Earth Republic had fought. Earth's previous enemies had been aliens with bizarre languages, incomprehensible thought patterns, and grotesque, inhuman appearances. Mobians spoke English, were mentally almost identical to humans, and looked humanoid, although they also bore a distinct resemblance to whatever animal each of the thirty Mobian species had genes spliced from. They lived their lives much like humans did. A few Mobians even served on the Arizona, and it was amazing indeed that they hadn't resigned when the Earth-Mobius feud started. Mobians were ballsy little creatures, that was for sure. They were also suprisingly strong for creatures only a meter tall, and were the physical equal of humans except for their short reach. An angry, snarling Mobian was a difficult opponent, especialy on their own ships--boarding actions against Mobian ships would likely be suicide due to the fact that human boarders literally wouldn't fit in the ships' interiors.

Her eyes flicked over to the doorway of the dome as Captain Ndele came in. "Admiral, ma'am, we have just received authorization from the President to begin hostile action against the Mobian Republic. As of right now, we are at war."

"Then we have no time to waste," she said, heading for the door. They both walked out of the dome, heading towards the bridge. The Terran-Mobian war had begun.

--

Adrian couldn't believe his eyes as he hurled the newspaper to the ground. All of his worst nightmares seemed to be coming true. Not only had the Mobians gone to war with Earth, but they had also lost an entire star system, two hundred ships, and 600,000 military personnel in a matter of hours. It was the worst defeat in the short history of the Mobian Federation. The Earthers had broken through the Mobian fleet like a sledgehammer through drywall.

Was there any possibility of the Mobians not losing? Probably not. In all likelihood this catastrophe would repeat itself again and again until the Earth ships encircled Mobius itself. Being stuck on a military station during a war was not a pleasant situation to say the least. He had to get to the planet surface as soon as possible. Perhaps he could apply for refugee status and move back in with his parents when the Mobian Federation inevitably collapsed. If the worst happened, he could end up in a relief shelter as a ward of the human occupation forces. But at least on the planet he wouldn't die.

He had earlier tried to call his parents again, but the phone links had already been cut off. He suddenly felt isolated and alone in a way he had never felt before. On Orbital Station Twelve, he had no family, no friends, and no power over his own destiny. He was a captive on a station that was surely marked for destruction. There was only one choice: he had to get the hell off this station.


	7. Bonding

**Chapter Six: Bonding**

It had been two days since the Earthers had launched their first attack on the Mobian Federation. Aldebaran was firmly in the hands of the Earth Republic. The system had always been an an important system and a strategic weak point in the Federation. One of its jump points lead to the Earth Federation member system of Alpha Centauri, and three others branched off to different Mobian-held systems. It had no habitable planets and few natural resources, but it was a hub for interstellar trade, and its loss in previous years would have doomed the Mobian Federation instantly by splitting it into two pieces cut off from each other. However, with the opening of the Vega-61 Cygni jump point two years ago, this potential problem had been eliminated. In a panic, the Mobian Federation had permanently destroyed the Aldebaran-Mobius jump point by loading a cruiser up with bombs and scuttling it during a jump, a technique that likely wouldn't work on other, older jump points. The Earth Republic would likely never have attacked Mobius itself without subduing the other Mobian systems--just dropping right on top of an enemy homeworld would be suicide--but the Mobian government wasn't taking chances.

For now, the Earthers had halted their attack, pausing to consolidate their foothold in Mobian territory. For Lord Admiral Kryche Akwarus, the tension was almost unbearable. He had taken advantage of this interlude to fortify Mobius' defensive positions. This time his forces were ready. There would not be a second Aldebaran. But, with Earth's strength, would it even matter if they took some losses?

Kryche studied the dossier on the commander of Earth's invasion fleet that he had requested. He always liked to know who he was up against. A picture of a tall, dark-haired human woman who Kryche guessed was in her mid-thirties dominated the first page. The woman's face spoke of an effortless calm and habitual confidence that came with someone who was seemingly born to succeed. Born to money and power, graduated from West Point with honors, and reaching the rank of admiral by the age of 31, Admiral Felicia Townswell was like a military fairy tale. Certainly she was a far cry from Kryche, who spent his childhood in poverty and his youth as an alcoholic before clawing his way to the top. Now, at the age of sixty-one, he wondered how much of his youth he had wasted and how many years he had decreased his life expectancy back when he was smoking two packs of cigarettes a day and drinking a case of beer every three days. Even now, there was always the temptation at the back of his mind to indulge, to sink back into his addiction.

No, he would not go into that downward spiral again. He had been tobacco and alcohol free for over many years and he wouldn't start again now. He had a life. He had responsibilities. And besides, Bookshire Draftwood would have a fit.

Although almost twenty years Kryche's junior, Bookshire was a great source of guidance and the one person who Kryche trusted completely. The middle-aged raccoon had first met Kryche as a bright young boy with a fascination with medicine, a dream of becoming a doctor, and an eagerness to express his (negative) opinion on Kryche's vices. Kryche befriended him despite the kid's constant nagging him to give up cigarettes and drink. At twelve, Bookshire was kind, exuberant, unfailingly optimistic, and as sharp as a knife.

Bookshire mellowed out as he grew older, becoming more serious and losing his manic energy, but becoming even kinder and wiser than ever. Nowadays the man had the patience of a saint and it was more likely that the sky would fall than he would lose his cool, no matter who was dealing with. He even managed to talk Kryche into breaking his addictions. But at the same time, he was serious to a fault, and sometimes a little too sure of himself.

He decided to place a call to Bookshire and see how he was doing. He picked up the telephone on his desk and called up the Bookshire's office at Orbital Station Twelve.

"Hello? O.S. 12 medical department?" said Bookshire.

"Hey, this is Kryche here, just wanted to talk."

"Hello, old friend. It's been a while since we last talked. What's on your mind?"

"Coordinating the war is worrying me sick, so I decided to do something to take my mind off it for a while. Had any interesting patients?"

"Apparently this must be Destructive Career Choices Week at the medical department. We have the entire crew of a freighter that had almost no sanitation or artificial gravity. They were pretty dreadful to behold, with lice all over them and their legs unable to support them because they've been floating for months. I just discharged one of them, a scrawny little kid who looks very underfed. I've actually wrote letters to shipping companies requesting that they improve conditions on those ships but they never listen." Bookshire sighed. "We also have a heavy metal singer who damaged his vocal cords because he thinks guttural screams are a good way to sing. I never liked loud music, especially loud music performed in such a way that the musicians hurt themselves. I temporarily paralyzed his voicebox with drugs so it has time to rest."

"I bet it must suck for him to not be able to talk for however long it takes to heal."

"True, but without treatment he would lose his voice forever."

"I think your job is going to get a lot more hectic. I decided to start spreading the casualties among civilian and military hospitals all over the Federation. We don't have room for thousands upon thousands of wounded near the battle lines, or even in our entire military hospital system. Civilians like you will have to share some of the burden as well."

"I suppose I won't be getting much sleep anymore, then."

"Probably." Kryche paused for a moment as a particularly morbid thought struck him.

"Bookshire, we're at a huge disadvantage in this war. This isn't like the War of the Three Powers. We're going to have disastrous casualties even if we manage to get a ceasefire eventually. The Earthers have us outmanned and outgunned, and we have almost no hope of winning. So I just want to tell you that I might not see you again. The Earthers will probably try to take generals and admirals out first, and that includes me. Whatever you do, please stay safe out there. I don't want us both to die in this horrible war."

"You know how important my work is to me, Kryche. If it comes down to life or death, I will gladly lay down my life so that others can be saved. There is always risk in life. As a soldier, you gave an oath to defend your country. As a doctor, I gave an oath to save lives. It is an oath I will not break, even for a friend. You do your job, and I will do mine."

"I understand. It's just that you're almost like a younger brother to me, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm forty-two years old and my son is a grown man. I don't need or want to be looked after. Maybe in your heart you still see me as a young boy reading medical magazines, but that was thirty years ago. Don't worry about me."

"I understand. We have to do what we have to do. In case I die, it has been a great pleasure knowing you, and I give you my best wishes. This will be my last call until the war is over. The hopes of Mobius ride on all of us. Let us do our people proud. Goodbye, Bookshire."

"Goodbye, and good luck."

"Just one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Tell your son that my name is pronounced 'kree-chay', not 'crikey'."

"I will do that. Godspeed, old friend

Kryche put the receiver back on the hook and smiled inwardly. In such dark times, he was glad to have such a good friend. He wondered how many people would lose friends on both sids in the coming war. He was not sure he wanted to know.

--

The bar was almost empty when Rex walked in. The threat of conquest and death had quelled any levity among the people on Orbital Station 12. Most people were in their quarters calling family members to say that they loved them, keeping track of developments in the war, or just despairing. He wanted to be away from all the gloom and dread. He saw a thin young hedgehog with fur the color of rust leaning against the railing near the observation dome window at the far end of the bar, a metal cane hooked on the rail beside him. The kid wore a partially unbuttoned white shirt, dark slacks, and loafers and he stared out the window down at Mobius, not making a sound. He looked terribly lonely.

Forgetting about getting a drink, Rex walked up beside the young man, and put a hand on his shoulder. The youth turned to look at him with the most intense blue eyes Rex had ever seen, but didn't say anything.

"Hey," said Rex. "What's your name?"

"Adrian. Adrian Spencer."

"My name's Rex Christensen. I thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to."

"I see your uniform. Soldiers intimidate me. Besides, I've seen you with that Riptos Calavera guy and I don't like him at all."

"Wait, you're the guy who sent the distress call from the freighter, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"What's your problem with soldiers? If it weren't for my squadron you wouldn't be alive right now."

"Because they treat us spacers like dogs, that's why. They're always stopping us at checkpoints, rummaging through our cargo, and questioning me about every tiny detail of what goes on in the ships I serve on while giving me this horrible stare that seems to burn through my head."

"I don't think it's fair to judge people you know nothing about."

"I think I get to know plenty about them while they grill me."

"When we're doing our job we have to be like that. Riptos is my best friend, and my first encounter with him in OCS involved him screaming at my class about how we were all a bunch of worthless shits who would never amount to anything. He rarely seemed to have anything nice to say, never missed an opportunity to put someone down, and said everything so loud that he became hoarse in five minutes. I thought he was the biggest asshole in the world. But I did what he told me to do, gave him the respect that he demanded, and didn't raise a fuss, because I didn't want to take any more abuse from him than I had to. But the day of my graduation, he took me aside, put his arm around me, and told me that he was proud of me and that I was the best cadet he ever trained because I worked hard, did my job, and didn't blow up at him or try to get back at him. I remember how shocked I was to discover that not only did he not think I was a worthless slime, but he actually was quite fond of me. I felt really great to know that he really was a nice guy and did care about me, and at the same time felt guilty for thinking he was such a jerk. Most soldiers are really decent people, and once you actually get to really know one--outside of his work--you'll see that for yourself."

"I guess that does make a lot of sense."

"See? We're not that bad. Now just relax. You've been all tensed up since even before I started talking to you. Are you always like this?"

"You could say that. I'm feeling especially rotten now because Dr. Draftwood decided to give me a ten-minute lecture on why I should change careers. He probably has the best intentions and was really kind when I was moaning and bitching about how everything hurt and I couldn't get up, but I was ready to explode when he got on his high horse and started telling me what to do in my life."

"Ah, Bookshire. He's a friend of mine. He's a friend of everyone's. Riptos and him are really close; they go back twenty years at least. He doesn't mean to seem patronizing when he does that preaching. Sometimes he just lets his ego get the better of him. Everyone has their foibles, even doctors. But believe me, when you're sick, he's the best friend you could ever have. How many friends do you have?"

"Not many. I've got a few human friends from Earth because a human family took me in when I was only a few days old. Particularly dear to me is my first doctor, Jacob Roth. He was a really entertaining guy, and really cool. I've been pretty much alone since I turned 18 and went to Mobius. I had a girlfriend but she dumped me because she apparently got fed up with me disappearing for three months and then coming back in a miserable shambles. Never mind that it was with my money that she was able to afford all those expensive baubles she liked to buy."

"Well, I can see why you don't have many friends. You don't give yourself a chance to warm up to people. You're always thinking that other people think you're worthless, and when anyone does or says something that rubs you the wrong way, you treat it as a confirmation of your suspicions no matter what the person's really like. You're always building walls around yourself. No, please don't turn away. I'm not saying this to be mean. Come on, let me buy you a drink."

"I don't drink. The last time I had alcohol, I woke up in the back of my car with a strange man rubbing my tail. They say my screams for help could be heard from two blocks away."

"Oh, come on, there's hardly anyone here. No one will spike your drink. And if anyone did, I would beat his ass down. So just relax and have a beer. It will help you come out of your shell."

"I prefer liquors. Beer tastes awful and you need so much of it to get buzzed that you end up looking like Jabba the Hutt if you drink it regularly."

"What reason do you have to worry about getting fat? Look at yourself. I can see the ridges on your breastbone. You're so skinny it's unhealthy. But I'll buy you something else if you want. What would you like?"

"Scotch on the rocks."

"Can you walk well by yourself yet or should I help you?"

"My legs are still a little weak, but I can manage it myself."

Rex nodded, but still stood a little closer to Adrian in case he fell. The young man picked up his cane, but just as he let go of the railing so he could walk over to the counter, his legs buckled as his entire weight fell upon them. He cried out for help as he fell backwards. Rex instantly caught him in his arms. Adrian leaned against him for a few moments, panting heavily, before he put the end of the cane on the floor and pulled himself upright.

"Thanks a lot," said Adrian.

"No problem. But after that little performance, I think I'll help you walk whether you want me to or not."

"Fine." Adrian flicked his eyes over to glare at a tall fox sitting at the counter, who was sniggering quietly, apparently hoping Adrian wouldn't notice. The man stopped laughing immediately.

"What were you looking at?" said Rex.

"I was giving some jerkoff a dirty look. He apparently thought I wouldn't hear him laughing at me. I don't like being made fun of."

"You've got to be less sensitive, Adrian. People wind you up because they know you'll get mad at them and blow up. Don't give assholes what they want. Grow a skin. Don't let the bastards get you down."

"So you just want me to stand there and take it?"

"That's exactly what I want you to do. If you don't give them the satisfaction of seeing them freak out, they'll stop giving you shit, and they'll probably respect you more."

"Now you're making me feel stupid."

"You're not stupid. In fact, I think you're quite the opposite. You just need to learn how to keep yourself under control." Rex began to walk him over to the counter.

"It's just so hard when there's always someone who wants to ruin my day."

"You just need to get out more often. Hell, half the people you probably get angry with weren't even being ugly to you--you just perceive them that way. From now on, whenever I'm off duty, I'm going to take you with me and we'll go relax and have fun together. It would be a lot better for you than locking yourself in your room and brooding."

"It doesn't matter, because I'm getting off this station as soon as I'm fit to travel."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I don't think that would be possible anymore. You see, this station is under lockdown by order of Captain Parks. Nobody gets in or out except for fighter sorties and resupply. You're going to be stuck here for quite a while I'm afraid."

Adrian's face fell a mile. "They locked the station down and trapped me here? This is insane! I'm only twenty-one! I have my whole life ahead of me! I don't want to die up here!" Now everyone in the bar was staring at him and Rex.

Rex put a hand behind Adrian's head and rubbed him behind the ears. "Please calm down. It's going to be all right. If things come to the point of Mobius' orbital stations being threatened with destruction, we're prepared to surrender. There are thousands of civilians just like you on these stations. We won't let them die. Trust me."

Adrian tried to calm himself, unclenching his hands. Was this Rex Christensen telling the truth? Was he really safe? He had already shattered so many of Adrian's assumptions and conceits that he didn't know what to believe anymore. Rex seemed like a nice enough person, even though he was dressed in a navy uniform. He decided to trust him. After all, he was stuck here anyway, so he would be better off trying not to drive himself crazy. "Fine," he said. "I believe you. And now everyone's staring at me. I'm such a chump."

Rex snorted. "Lighten up. If you're not thinking ugly things about other people, you're thinking ugly things about yourself. I'm surprised Bookshire didn't keep you in for psychotherapy. Hold on to me. I'll help you up onto the barstool."

Adrian clutched Rex's shirt as the navy officer took his cane and hoisted him up onto the stool. Rex then handed the cane to the bartender. "Could you keep this safe for him? He just got back from working on a space freighter and is still a bit wobbly from being in low gravity for a long time."

"Of course." The bartender took the cane and stowed it under the counter. "What would you like me to do for you, sirs?"

"I'll have a glass of Heineken. Give him a scotch on the rocks. I'll pay for both of them."

"Is he a friend of yours, Lieutenant Commander? I haven't seen him before."

"I just met him, but he needs a friend, so I'll be one for him. Maybe then he'll be able to calm down for once."

The bartender chuckled. "A good idea. I'll have your drinks in a moment."

Rex patted Adrian on the shoulder. "See? Relax. They're not going to bite your head off or anything." He briefly rubbed the back of Adrian's neck with his thumb, kneading the muscles through the young man's collar. He could feel the tension in them release slightly.

"Here you are," said the bartender as he handed Rex and Adrian their drinks.

"I suppose your life these past few years has been pretty lousy, huh?" said Rex.

"Yeah. I've had ups and downs, mostly downs."

"You know, most of the unhappiness in your life is of your making."

"Maybe."

"I get the feeling that your job is a major source of your troubles. I actually considered the job once and researched it, so I know how much it sucks. It's hot, the hours are horrible, it's filthy, and every year you're stuck with a completely different ship and crew so any friends you make are lost. It's also why you need that cane to get around. It's damaging both your mental and physical health."

Adrian looked down at his drink. Being dumped by Nadia was still a sore spot for him, so he wasn't happy to have another person criticizing his choice of careers, but the guy did have a point. He looked over at Rex, who had finished his beer and was ordering another one.

"I was wondering," said Rex to Adrian again. "What made you pick that job."

Adrian sighed. "You know how the type of high school you go to is determined by a test you take at the end of primary school? I didn't study enough for that test or I didn't care enough, or something, hell, I don't even remember why--but for whatever reason, I got a really low score. They put me into a low-level high school where all the dimwit kids went. I did pretty well there, but when I graduated and tried to get into college, they told me that I couldn't get into college because I didn't get into a good enough high school."

"So what? Lots of people never go to college and they don't end up slaving away aboard a flying hellhole."

"The humans who had adopted me were fairly well-off, upper-middle class, they have a nice house and big flashy car and never seem to worry about money, and I was so used to that that I wasn't, and perhaps I'm still not able to really accept being poor. Wages for tradesmen have gone so far down the toilet now that they're no better off than the guy who bags your groceries at the supermarket, so I sought a good living by doing a job that paid well because it was so awful that no one would ever accept less for it."

Rex reached forward as the bartender handed him another drink. "So you basically put yourself through hell because you want to live like your folks."

"That's about the size of it."

"Well, there's probably half your trouble right there. You don't regard your job as a worthy endeavor or something to be proud of. You see it as a paycheck. And you'll sacrifice your health and dignity to make more. That's a bad way to look at your job. You're making yourself the next best thing to a prostitute. How can you look in the mirror every morning?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to find a job that means something to you, even if it doesn't pay well. Don't try to chase the almighty dollar, because if you do it will fuck you and make your life a nightmare. In fact, there's even still a way for you to go to college."

Adrian's ears pricked up. "What is it?"

"The officer training corps. The military puts you through college and gives you a dorm and blah blah blah, and in return, you serve for eight years as a military officer in a billet related to the field you chose."

"I don't know if I could do that. Sure, I can get over my grudge against soldiers. But actually becoming one? I'm not cut out to fight. The idea of combat for me is terrifying."

"Probably the majority of the men in the armed forces will never have to fire at anyone. There are plenty of jobs that don't involve combat. You could be a communications officer. You could be an engineer. You could even join the medical corps and stop people from dying. You know that doctor on Earth that you had such a friendship with? You could be like him, or if you're not willing to get a full MD, get a bachelor's degree and become a physician assistant, which is pretty close. Instead of slaving away for a company in conditions unfit for a slave, you could be important."

"I never thought of that," said Adrian. "I'll think about it. I've never really amounted to anything in my life so far. Perhaps it would be a good idea."

"See? That's the spirit. The instructors are also a bit nicer in fields where you don't have to learn to kill people. They don't shout cuss words in your face and punch you in the gut when you screw up. By the way, you still haven't drunk that scotch."

"Oh." Adrian downed the shot of whiskey in one gulp, the liquid burning his throat. He had forgotten what drinking alcohol was like.

"It should kick in in a few minutes. Considering how skinny you are, you probably won't need another. You should see a human drink. They often need three or four before they really feel anything."

"I'm aware of that. My parents would sometimes drink on special occasions."

"Would you like another?"

"No, that will be enough."

Rex pulled out his wallet and paid the bartender, and then helped Adrian down. "Now I think we should go somewhere quiet so you can unwind."

"Somewhere with a nice warm bed would be nice."

"I could take you to my quarters. I share it with Riptos, but he's out on patrol and won't be back for another few hours."

"It's his room as well as yours, and I don't want to intrude on it without his permission as well as yours. I rented a room for myself right around here. Let's go there instead."

"Sure."

"I want to thank you for striking up that conversation and buying me that drink. I was wrong about you. You're a really nice guy."

"It's no problem, really. I'm free for the rest of the day because my fighter wasn't fit to fly today. Those things break down all the time."

Adrian stopped as he approached the door to his room. He swiped his keycard through the reader and then opened the door. Adrian walked over to his bed and not so much climbed as fell into it, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes for a few seconds. He unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, putting it on a chair next to his bed, and then removed his shoes and socks. He stretched out on the bed as Rex sat in a reclining chair across from him. Rex decided to strip down to the waist. Keeping all of his uniform on might make Adrian nervous.

"Oh, this feels good," said Adrian. He never liked to be drunk--he would invariably get sick if he drank enough to get stupid, but did enjoy the euphoria that came from a small amount of alcohol. The tension had left him, leaving a warm glow that seemed to fill every part of his body. "All that's missing is a cute girl to give me a foot rub."

Rex chuckled. "Thank goodness you didn't ask for another drink, or you'd probably ask me to do it."

"I wouldn't object if you did."

Rex smiled. He liked seeing Adrian finally enjoying himself. Adrian seemed to revel in it, as if real happiness and fun were something new and exciting. Perhaps they were for him. _Hell_, Rex thought, _I would even rub his feet if he would be like this more often. We'd probably regret it when the booze wears off though._

"Hey, Rex? I was wondering, did you grow up on Mobius? I suspect that you didn't."

"That's correct."

"Figures. I could tell by your accent. I grew up in Alabama, and sometimes my parents would take me with them on vacation to Florida. A lot of the people there had the same kind of accent you have."

"Yep, I'm from Florida. You're a clever boy."

Adrian chuckled. "A lot of the people who've interviewed me for jobs assumed I was slow because my school performance wasn't so great. A few of them were quite surprised by how sharp I really was. Shame on me for being so lazy when I was in school."

"Too bad you can't go back and fix things, huh?"

"Yeah. What was your childhood like?"

_Oh shit_, Rex thought. The bizarre story of how he came to be who he was not one he liked to tell. It was a story of crime, deception, and pain. Lots of pain. But he couldn't keep a secret from the kid, who was fast becoming his friend. Besides, Adrian was smart enough to see right through him if he were to lie. He decided to tell it straight.

"I originally wasn't a Mobian. I was born a human to human parents. I spent the first fifteen years of my life as a human. Some kid named Brian Carson wanted me to test his new science project. He claimed it was a teleporter. I didn't believe him, but I decided to humor him. It turns out that he didn't build it and it wasn't a teleporter. I got stuck in the machine for three days. I don't remember anything that happened inside it, but when I was finally found, they said I was lying naked in a pool of organic gunk, unconscious. It turned out that the machine had disassembled and reconstructed me as a hedgehog. The organic gunk was about 80 pounds of me that was left out in the process. And then it turned out that Brian Carson was not Brian Carson, but a rat named Skamper who was a crony of the infamous career criminal Takeo Sekaro. The machine was built by another criminal named Dr. Ivo Robotnik. I was a human guinea pig for their prototype nanoassembler. I'll spare you the details of what happened to them, but let's say their careers are over."

"That's perhaps the most fucked up thing I've ever heard in my life."

"It's the truth. I can even show you my birth certificate to prove that I was once human."

"So what was it like when you woke up as a hedgehog?"

"It was the worst time of my life. I spent almost a year in the hospital re-learning how to do all the basic functions of life in a body a third the size of my old one, and then I had to prove to all my friends that I was still me. Even then, a lot of my friends didn't want to associate with Rex the Freakhog anymore. Even my father had a hard time accepting me as a hedgehog sometimes. I was as messed up as you are, if not more."

"That sucks, man. Sorry to hear that."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Worry about your own life. You have enough worries already."

"I would just die for an ear rub right now."

"Are you all right? Most people don't ask me to do things like that."

"It's the alcohol talking. I've always enjoyed being touched, and drink makes me feel a whole lot less inhibited."

"So you're not gay at all then."

"I wouldn't completely rule out men, but it's generally not my thing. But alcohol does make me horny and more likely to see a guy that way." Adrian looked at Rex's chest for a few seconds. "Yes, I do have an attraction to you right now. That's because I react very strongly to booze. I won't make any advances on you, don't worry. Oh Jesus, this must've been a bit more than one shot. I'm going to feel this the next morning."

Rex decided Adrian's momentary crush was harmless. He seemed more interested in chilling out than anything else anyway. "Sure, I'll give you your ear rub," said Rex. "Hell, I'll give you a foot rub."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I don't really mind your feelings all that much. Now when real gay person who's perverted even when he's sober gets drunk, now that's scary."

"You know one?"

"Yeah, he flies for our squadron. The advances he makes when he's sober are just teases. It's when he's drunk that he really gets serious. They don't let him into the bar anymore."

Adrian chuckled briefly and closed his eyes as he felt Rex's fingers sliding between his toes. His laugh trailed off into a soft purr of pure contentment. He had never felt this good in years. For once, he was completely free of anxiety, just enjoying the moment. The euphoric feeling was trailing off into an incredible feeling of tiredness. His eyelids drooped and he became less and less aware of Rex kneading the soles of his feet. He had no idea how long he had lain there before finally falling into a wonderful, restful sleep.

Rex looked down at Adrian, who was now fast asleep. He felt glad to have helped the young man come out of his shell, if only for a few hours. He smiled as he pulled the covers over the sleeping hedgehog. He put on his undershirt and uniform jacket, and left Adrian alone in the room.


	8. Resuming Hostilities

**Chapter 7: Resuming Hostilities**

Adrian woke up feeling as if his brain had melted. Every thought was painfully slow. He could hardly see. Memories of the previous afternoon, made fuzzy by alcohol, played in his mind. He remembered meeting Rex, and the conversations he had, and lying in his bed in a stupor. People's personalities change when they're intoxicated. Their inhibitions lower. They say and do things they wouldn't say otherwise. Like getting a foot rub from another man. And liking it. Jesus Christ. He buried his head in his pillows, wishing he could go back to sleep and stay that way forever. Did he really say that he felt an attraction to some guy he barely met? Sure, he liked him. But not like that. "I'm a fucking moron," he mumbled to himself.

He tried to focus more on the things Rex said to him during their conversation at the bar. In the space of two hours, Rex had broken a prejudice he had had for years and helped him be happy for once rather than withdrawing into himself and feeling miserable, and given him some useful advice to boot. Was the embarrassment of knowing that he had enjoyed his presence a little too much such a large price to pay? For all he knew, Rex might have felt the same way.

After a few more minutes, Adrian finally managed to drag himself out of bed. He grabbed his cane and stumbled into the en-suite bathroom. Staring into the mirror, he saw that he looked like a complete mess. His spines were disheveled and pointing every which way, his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was ashen. He had always been abnormally sensitive to alcohol even for a Mobian, but one drink should not have done this to him.

He splashed water over his face, trying to get that sludgy feeling out of his head. It wasn't working. He hated hangovers. At least this was only a minor one. A memory of spending a morning puking into the toilet suddenly overtook him. That incident where he got slipped a roofie wasn't the only reason he had quit drinking the first time. How did Rex manage to down three drinks without suffering brain death?

He pulled off his clothes and walked towards the shower. Rex was right. He did need to get out more often. Could Rex actually be able to turn his train wreck of a life around?

--

Rex sat in his quarters, wishing he didn't have so much to drink yesterday. The first thing he had felt when he opened his eyes in the morning was a horrible migraine that felt like it would tear apart his head. Of course, Riptos quickly noticed something was wrong with him and interrogated him about what he had done yesterday. He mentioned meeting Adrian and buying him a drink as well as the conversation they had, although he somehow managed to avoid mentioning Adrian's drunken, half-hearted sexual overtures. He didn't want to make Adrian or himself lose face by making that little part public. But that didn't keep Riptos from chewing him out, confining him to quarters, and docking him three days' pay.

He could still hear the older hedgehog's voice in his head. _"Rex, you're a goddamn idiot. There's a fucking war out there and you spend a free day getting drunk off your ass when you know you're expected to be ready to fight the next day. You're lucky I don't have you thrown in the brig. Maybe that will teach you not to get drunk during wartime, huh? People's lives depend on you and you drink so much that you can hardly talk the next morning? What the fuck is wrong with you?"_

He would've placed a call to his wife Connie, but Riptos had disconnected the phone. And the television. And locked up his comic books. There was absolutely nothing for him to do but sleep, but he didn't feel like it. He was pretty sure Riptos knew exactly how horrible it would be for him stuck in his room with nothing to divert him from the crushing boredom. Riptos might have been his friend, but he was also his boss, and the commander took that element of the relationship very seriously. He had even reprimanded Rex in front of the whole squadron to make an example of him.

He was sure Riptos would admonish him again when he got back. He knew his commander wanted to emphasize that he was not going to play favorites by letting him off easy. Rex was sure that if he got drunk on duty again Riptos would put him in the brig without hesitation.

_Oh, grow the fuck up_, he thought to himself. _You were the one who decided it was a good idea to have three drinks in the middle of a war. How could you be surprised at the consequences?_

He knew he deserved to have Riptos yelling at him about how he dishonored his squadron and did a disservice to the people he swore an oath to protect and disgraced himself in front of his comrades. But the most cutting admonition of all was when Riptos said, _"You're a disgrace to the Navy fighter corps. Fuck, you'd be a disgrace to the jackasses in the fucking Army infantry."_ Rex hated Army men, with their constant bullshit about how the fighter pilots are a bunch of slackers who spend the day on the golf course while Army soldiers--"real soldiers"--did all the work. To be described as lower than one of them was a deep rebuke indeed.

Rex sighed. It seems every line of thought led right back to the same place. How did the old man make him feel terrible so effortlessly? Riptos could probably make him cry if he tried. He slumped onto his bunk, feeling as if time had slowed to almost a complete stop. Surely this would end sometime.

--

Riptos put his fighter into a gentle turn as he circled the Aldebaran-61 Cygni jump point. His squadron had been sent to patrol the jump point in 61 Cygni, ready to blast whatever came through. Hundreds of Mobian fighters swirled around the jump point like metallic sharks. A few thousand kilometers farther out were over three hundred capital ships, their guns trained on the jump point. Skitz was covering him instead of Rex this time. Deathwish was a better pilot than Skitz, but he was also reckless and arrogant--two qualities that he didn't want in a wingman. His anger at Rex had faded to mere disappointment. He expected better of a comissioned officer who was almost thirty years old. Sure, Riptos himself was no teetotaler--in fact, he probably never met a bottle he didn't like--but he would know better than to drink when he was expected to be able to fight at any time, and he expected the men under his command to know better.

He felt no remorse over the harsh dressing-down he gave Rex. He couldn't let it seem as if he had a soft spot for him. Favoritism destroys the comradeship that holds a fighting unit together. He had to ride Rex's ass just to let everyone else know that he expected everyone in his unit to act responsibly. Besides, there was another reason to be harsh with Rex: He wanted him to be his replacement.

--

Admiral Townswell stood on the bridge of the _Arizona_, watching the ships of the first strike force prepare to jump. They were heavy assault cruisers, massive ships with huge armored prows with their guns facing forward for maximum concentration of fire. They were designed for breaking enemy formations, delivering as much firepower as possible in as little time as possible. Every spear needed a sharp tip, and these ships were it.

She had done some reading on the Mobian navy commander. Lord Admiral Kryche Akwarus didn't seem like much at first glance--an aged former alcoholic from an impoverished background and a youth filled with trouble. He seemed like an incongruous choice as the leader of the Mobian defense. But she knew better than to underestimate him. The Mobians were not stupid. They would not appoint an incompetent admiral to lead them. She feared that this Kryche Akwarus was soon to cause them a great deal of grief.

The first strike force was now in position. There was no turning back, no respite until the Mobian Federation was subdued. The tides of war had come in, and entire Mobian navy could not hope to stop them. The Mobians were ready for them this time. In Aldebaran they had been blindsided and quickly folded as their command and control fell apart. This would not happen again. They would have to be dug out little by little. And once they were dug out, she would watch Kryche Akwarus hang from a rope.

"All ships of Strike Force Alpha, engage jump drives."

The ships instantly sprung into action on Admiral Townswell's command, disappearing in flashes of white light. Soon they would be in 61 Cygni, and the second round of the war would begin.

"Your move, Admiral Akwarus," she said with a smirk.

--

Riptos felt the adrenaline rise as Lord Admiral Akwarus' voice sounded on his headset. "All units, the Earthers are here, I repeat, the Earthers are here. Fire at will!"

Earth ships emerged into a rain of particle bolts coming from all directions as fighters and capital ships mercilessly pummeled the incoming Earth ships. Several were gone within the first minute, but they were bringing in more faster than they were losing them. The Earth ships dwarfed those of the Mobian defense fleet, and the amount of punishment they could take was nothing short of obscene.

Riptos launched a volley of missiles as Earth fighters streaked towards him. All his years in the navy had led up to this. This was what the sims had prepared him for. This was combat. This was real.

A particle cannon shot from Riptos' fighter slammed into an Earth fighter, blasting a hole through it. Its engines sputtered fitfully as it tumbled end over end before another shot, coming from Skitz, blew it to pieces.

"Oh yeah, I got one, I got one, hell yeah!" said Deathwish a few seconds later. Earth fighter pilots weren't as well trained as their Mobian opponents, and in combat their deficiencies were quite apparent. But there were so many of them it was doubtful if it realy mattered.

Riptos swore as a Mobian capship's beam cannon came within meters of accidentally frying him. He quickly jerked his ship to the side. Staying in the line of fire of a capital ship--friendly or hostile--was a good way to die.

Knowing that their position was untenable, the Earthers were now recalling their fighters and preparing to fall back. They had come to probe the Mobian defenses, ascertain their strength. The Earthers would be back, and next time they would truly mean business.

Riptos watched as the Earth fleet departed. A siege of a heavily fortified star system could take weeks, with feints and counter-feints and skirmishes as the attackers slowly whittled their opponents down. This was only the beginning of the battle of 61 Cygni, a little taste of the violence to come. The Mobians were banking on stopping the Earth forces here, inflicting so much damage that the Earthers simply quit. It was a far-fetched hope. Blood calls out for blood, and the blood of the crew of the Earth outpost was on Mobius' hands.

--

Rex braced himself for another round of verbal chastisement as he heard the door slide open and Riptos' footsteps against the floor.

"Hello, Rex. I hope you have learned your lesson. We had our first combat sortie. Too bad you weren't there."

Rex didn't say anything, just staring at the floor.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, Rex. I'm not going to let you wallow in self-pity."

Rex forced himself to make eye contact with him, feeling a lump in his throat. He couldn't find words to say to his commander.

"I'm very disappointed in you. You're a commissioned officer in the Mobian navy. You swore an oath to apply yourself one hundred percent in the defense of the Mobian Federation. You can't just go out and have a few drinks when there's a war going on. I expect you to know and understand that."

"Yes, sir." That was all Rex could say. At least it was an improvement over nothing.

"Furthermore, your laxity reflects poorly on me both to my men and to the commander of this station. How do you think I feel having to explain to Captain Parks why one of my men is too hung over to fly during a time of crisis? If my men won't do their jobs, I can be held reponsible, and what he would do to me is a thousand times worse than what I did to you. Would you like to see me get a court-martial, Rex?"

Now Rex really felt bad. To know that he was not the only one who could've gotten in trouble hurt him. "I'm sorry I let you down," said Rex, his voice cracking as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I regret having done what I did and I will not do it again."

"That's what I wanted to hear. Now I want to see you make good on it. I might be your friend, but I'm not going to give you special treatment. Do you think the other pilots would appreciate seeing the commander's pet get off with a slap on the wrist? You can bet your goddamn dollar they wouldn't! The worst possible sin a leader can commit is nepotism. Giving someone a get-out-of-jail-free card just because you like him makes the other troops resent him and you, make your men respect you less, and undermine your authority. I'm have to be tough with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Furthermore, I think that, because of your status, you should be held to a _higher_ standard than the other pilots. I didn't assign you as my wingman just because I liked you. People become the leader's wingman to become leaders themselves. I only have two years left before I have to retire and I want you to fill in the void."

Rex suddenly realized that his life was about to get a whole lot harder.

"To be an effective leader, you have to be a moral exemplar for the other men. You have to be on your best behavior, dot your I's, and cross your T's, because if you don't, they sure as hell won't. You don't just have to be a good soldier. You have to be a fucking _inspiration_ for them."

Rex felt his guts tighten inside him.

"When you were in OCS, you had to prove that you would be a good soldier. Now you're going to have to prove that you would be a good leader, just like I had to prove myself before I got my first command. And this time, there are no scoreboards or six-kilometer runs--there's you, your squadmates, and me breathing down your neck. If a leader screws up, all the people under him are fucked. When you're a squadron leader you can't have a little oopsie. You can't get drunk. You can't fuck up, because your men depend on you."

"Why have you chosen me for this?" said Rex.

"Because you're the best pilot in my squadron and I know you can do it. From now on, I'm going to be watching you like a hawk and riding your ass 24/7. I expect you to shine. I expect you to make Deathwish and Pinky and Skitz look like little pissants. This is your chance to prove yourself worthy to lead my squadron. I hope you take it, because the future of all my men is riding on you."

"I'm not sure whether I should be honored or terrified."

Riptos sat down next to Rex and spoke again, in a gentler, almost fatherly tone. "Listen, Rexy, if I didn't think you could replace me, I wouldn't have made you my wingman. I know you can do it. When I told you after your commissioning that you were the best soldier I ever trained, I meant it, and I still mean it. That's why I was so upset when you got drunk. I'm hard on you because I'm fond of you and I want to see you succeed." Riptos put a hand between Rex's shoulders. "You can do it. The only question now is if you're willing to do it. Can you make me proud, Rex?"

"Y-yes, sir," Rex said. He had never felt so nervous in years. Riptos had put his hopes on him, and that was a huge burden.

"Good. I want to see you do it. Now get some rest. You'll need it."


	9. Hanging On

**Chapter Eight: Hanging On**

_"By playing at Chess then, we may learn: First, Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, and considers the consequences that may attend an action ... Second, Circumspection, which surveys the whole Chess-board, or scene of action: - the relation of the several Pieces, and their situations; ... Third, Caution, not to make our moves too hastily."_

--Benjamin Franklin

Kryche Akwarus longed for a cigarette as he read the casualty reports for the day's fighting. In the past week, the Earthers had launched five strikes on the defensive fleet at 61 Cygni, each one longer and more intense than the last. The most recent had lasted twelve hours and caused the loss of twenty ships and over 40,000 men. The Earthers were firmly in control of the 61 Cygni-Aldebaran jump points and the planet Titus III and were steadily closing in on Titus II, where the Mobians had assembled to make their last stand in 61 Cygni. Admiral Townswell was taking her time and using her vast advantage in manpower and resources to her advantage, like any true Earther. As the largest spacefaring power in this sector of the galaxy, the Earth Republic had made their specialty out of slowly but surely grinding their opponents to dust.

So far, casualties on the Mobian side had exceeded three and a half million soldiers and two million civilians, many of them taken during the fall of Titus III. The Earth government had rebuffed several attempts at negotiated peace, announcing that they would accept no less than total surrender. At this rate, such an outcome seemed inevitable. It was almost enough to make the old admiral despair.

They were losing far too quickly, much quicker than Kryche had imagined, despite the Earthers' methodical strategy. The fall of Titus III was especially humiliating, with millions of Mobian troops turning their backs to the enemy and running like cowards as Earth tanks rolled into the cities. The Mobian military was highly demoralized, desertion was rife, and men were even slaying their own officers and throwing themselves before the feet of the human conquerors.

Titus II loomed large out the window of his office, a blue-and-white marbled globe peppered with the silhouettes of ships. Titus I, whose only settlements were a few mining colonies, had already been evacuated. Titus II was one of the most important worlds in the Mobian Federation, boasting a population of over two billion--very impressive for a colony world. Its loss would be a huge disaster for the Mobians, but seemed inevitable. But Kryche had to at least try to keep it from falling into Earth hands.

Kryche held his head in his hands, trying to keep some shreds of composure. He had to do something to calm his nerves. Anything. With a sigh, he got up and walked towards the door to get some cigarettes and a beer. Bookshire could kiss his ass if he complained.

--

Riptos grimaced as Bookshire gently prodded his lower back. For the last few weeks he had been experiencing back cramps (and had had almost constant minor back pain for several months beforehand), one of which came in the middle of battle and would have cost him his life if Rex hadn't been there to shoot down the fighter that was on his six. He would thank Rex for it when he got back to his quarters. That incident had finally driven Riptos to come to Bookshire for an examination. Riptos never liked coming to people for medical help. He liked to think of himself as being tough enough to work through it. But now it was endangering him on the field of battle, and he couldn't just "take it like a man" anymore.

"Ow!" hissed Riptos as Bookshire touched a particularly tender area. "That hurt like hell!"

"Sorry," said Bookshire. "I'm almost finished."

Bookshire gently squeezed a bit of flesh between his fingers. Riptos moaned as a burst of pain shot through him. "Are you finished yet?" he said, still wincing.

"Yes. Since your pain is rather intense and has been going on in some form months before these intense cramps, I think the it might not be related to stress or muscle strains, but perhaps something like a nerve abnormality. I'm going to take an X-ray of your spine just in case there's anything wrong with it, plus MRI and CAT scans tomorrow. The MRI will take a while, so you'll have to be relieved of duty tomorrow."

"Just great. I'll have to stay in the hospital all day while my squadron fights without me."

"It's only one day."

"There's a battle raging, and my men depend on me."

"They're well-trained men. They're not going to fall apart just because a surrogate is leading them for a day."

"I hope I don't lose my career because of this."

"Your condition is probably manageable with mild medication combined with heating pads and massage when you're not in combat. But I strongly recommend that you retire when this war is over. 43 is too old to be flying combat missions."

"If there is any navy left to retire from."

"There might be. Who knows?"

Riptos sighed. "I've never known a life outside this besides that Godforsaken monastery on Orososh."

"A lot of people have a difficult time coping with having to leave a career that's been perceived for a long time. Do some research and find a new career path that appeals to you, or talk to a counselor about it."

"You know I'd never go begging some counselor to tell me what to do with my life."

"You'd probably be a happier person if you could learn to swallow your pride and accept help when you need it."

"Maybe."

"Come on, I'll take you to the X-ray machine."

Bookshire lead Riptos into a room containing a flat table with a shiny black surface. Bookshire inserted a small cartridge under the table surface.

"I'll need you to take off your shoes, get on the table, and lie on your stomach," said Bookshire.

Riptos did as he was instructed, removing his shoes and lying prone on the X-ray machine. The surface was freezing cold against his bare chest and abdomen and he fought back the urge to shiver. Bookshire moved a U-shaped device along a ceiling track until it was hanging above Riptos's lower back and then lowered it until it touched the hedgehog's back, causing Riptos to wince briefly.

"Now hold still. This will only take a few seconds."

Bookshire walked over to a control panel and pressed a button. A strange whirring sound came from the U-shaped device around Riptos' back for a few seconds and then subsided.

"All done," said Bookshire as he raised the device and removed the cartridge. "I'll take this to the radiologist so she can have a look at it; the results will be in tomorrow. Just before you get dressed and return to your quarters, I'm going to prescribe something for your pain." The doctor began writing something onto a clipboard and then pulled a bottle of pills out of the cabinet. "Take two of these every twelve hours. They're not going to screw with your head much, so you'll still be able to fly while taking them. Take it easy tonight, feel free to sleep in, and come back tomorrow at noon. I'll call up the captain and arrange for someone to lead your squadron in your place."

"All right. Thanks, Bookshire."

"No problem."

Riptos put on his shoes and then went into the examination room and put his undershirt and jacket back on. "Guess I'll show myself the door. See you tomorrow, Bookshire."

"Goodbye. Take the opportunity to get plenty of rest."

"I will. I like sleeping." Riptos chuckled and walked out of the room.

--

"Hey, Rexy, mind if I use the bottom bunk this time?" said Riptos as he entered the command quarters.

"Sure," said Rex. "How was your examination?"

"He poked and prodded me for a few minutes, gave me an X-ray, and prescribed some painkillers. He wants to do more tests tomorrow, so they're going to have someone else lead the squadron tomorrow. Remember, the substitute is not your buddy, so treat him with the utmost respect and courtesy. I don't want to hear any complaints from him, OK? I expect you to be on your absolute best behavior at all times. Address him as "sir", salute, and do everything he tells you and I mean _everything_."

"All right."

Riptos walked over to the sink and poured some water into a glass. He took two pills from the bottle Bookshire had prescribed him and swallowed them along with the water. "I'm going to bed now," he said. "My appointment is at noon, so I'm going to sleep in tonight. You can watch TV as long as you keep it down."

"Sure, I'll keep the volume down. I hope your back feels better soon."

"Thanks. Bookshire also recommended massage, although I'm not sure who he planned on the person doing the massage being. I'd rather have an actual medical practitioner do it than you. Having you do it would be kinda embarrassing."

Rex laughed. "I wouldn't tell anyone, don't worry."

"Good night."

"Good night, Rip."

Riptos stripped to his underwear and got into bed, pulling the covers over his head to keep the light out. He closed his eyes and waited to fall into blissful sleep.

--

"So, what can we expect in return for our services?" said Samuel Blackmore, leader of the Hellbats pirate league. He was one of several major Mobian space pirate kingpins who had been contacted by the Earth Republic to distract the Mobian Federation by attacking shipments and otherwise wreaking havoc. The Earth emissary, a tall human woman in an admiral's uniform with dark brown hair styled in a ponytail, was on the screen, her face emotionless and stony. "I want 15 mil up front, plus another million credits per week."

"We will pay you the amount you requested, and grant you amnesty for all your past crimes when we seize control of Mobius."

"Excellent. How many other organizations have you contacted?"

"We currently have twelve others working for us and are still looking for more clients."

"Heheh, good. The more, the merrier. At least merrier for us." Samuel grinned, showing a mouthful of decayed teeth.

"I'm glad to hear you're enthusiastic. You will receive the money tomorrow."

"Wonderful. With all the Mobian ships tied up fighting you, I'm gonna be making a killing off their shipping. I guess we have a deal then."

"Indeed."

"Well, I'll contact you again when I get the money. Good-bye, and good hunting against that alcoholic flea-ridden old fart Akwarus. I wanna see him die like the little bitch he is."

"You will, trust me on that one. Good-bye." The monitor went dark.

Samuel took another slug of the beer he held in his hand. The Earthers were fucking paying him to attack the Mobian Federation from within. This was going to be the best business he ever had.

--

Admiral Townswell smirked to herself. These pirates were scum, but they served a purpose. They meant less time and blood spent by Earth's forces, which meant more glory for her and her fleet. And like all scum, they just couldn't resist money. The sums were trivial to the Earth Republic, and more than worth the added convenience. Seeing Mobius besieged by both her and its own criminal element would be a wonderful sight to behold.

She walked over to the window and looked down at the planet of Titus III, newly captured by the Earth Republic. After the initial bombing and invasion, she had made sure that the occupation was relatively benevolent. Such a show of mercy would hopefully coax more planets or even entire systems into surrendering. As glorious as it was to watch the Mobian navy crumble before her, it was even more glorious to achieve an objective without even firing a shot. As Sun Tzu said, "_The supreme excellence is to subdue the armies of your enemies without even having to fight them._" The Earth Republic had even sent out a proclamation offering protection and full member status for any planet that freely surrendered to the Earth side.

With enemies within, enemies without, and incentive for planetary governors to hand over their planets without a shot being fired, the Mobian Federation was surely doomed.


	10. The Fall of 61 Cygni Part I

**Chapter Nine: The Fall of 61 Cygni Part I**

_"So look for him vainly  
He, the incarnation of evil  
And by arrangements of magickal nature  
He turns unrecognizable even to the experienced eye"_

--Arcturus - Master of Disguise

The men of the 17th Green Dragons turned their heads as their temporary substitute squadron leader, Lieutenant Commander Gedalio Anastasio, walked into the room, his eyes boring into each of the pilots as he passed them. Rex was wearing the insignia of a lieutenant, taking a brevet demotion for the day so as to not look strange in front of the surrogate leader--a commander and subordinate of the same rank would be strange indeed. Not that the scene wasn't already strange. The Mobian navy composed squadrons to be as homogenous in species as possible, so all the men of the Green Dragons were hedgehogs, and for them to be saluting a fox was very odd.

"So these are the men that Commander Calavera leaves in my command. I hope your ability to fight is better than your ability to stand in a line. Lieutenant Wishmaster! Stop slouching!" He backhanded Deathwish lightly in the stomach. The fox then stepped back, taking in the entire squadron with his piercing gray eyes. "Is it that you cannot form in a line properly or do you just have no respect for me? Unlike Commander Calavera, I am not your friend. I am not your father. I will not tolerate the kind of nonsense he puts up with and even seems to welcome. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" the twenty-nine hedgehogs replied instantly.

"Brevet lieutenant Christensen! Is it true that you are the leader's wingman in this squadron?"

"Yes, sir. Ript--I mean Commander Calavera appointed me himself."

"Is it also true that you were recently disciplined for being intoxicated on duty?"

"Yes, sir. However, the commander still places his full confidence in me. It will not happen again, sir."

"I hope it won't. At least Commander Calavera had enough sense to make sure you were appropriately punished."

Rex tried to hide his nervousness. Lt. Commnder Anastasio seemed to be gleefully tearing him apart. Probably to impress his own commander, he thought. Often candidates for squadron leader were assigned as surrogates for other squadrons. To this fox, Rex was not only a temporary subordinate, but also a potential threat to his authority, as he was of the same rank and position. Rex was relieved as the fox's gray eyes flicked away from his own.

"Now that I have stripped you lot of your vanity, we will go to the briefing room to prepare for battle. Left-face, march!"

The 17th Green Dragons followed their leader into the briefing room, none of them making a sound aside from the clashing of their boots against the steel floor.

--

Kryche took a gulp from his glass of water as he surveyed his fleet. Years of heavy drinking in his youth meant that the mere two drinks he had consumed the previous day had barely affected him. Scouts had detected hundreds of Earth ships massing for a final assault on Titus II. Wolf 359 was being evacuated as the loss of 61 Cygni would cut it off from the rest of the Mobian Federation. Refugee ships streamed by in the distance, heading for Vega and ultimately 61 Virginis and Mobius. Kryche doubted that the system would be evacuated in time. More than 500 million people lived on Orososh, Wolf 359's only habitable planet, plus millions more in colony stations. So far only one tenth of them had made it to Vega so far.

His entire fleet had by now assumed defensive positions around Titus II. The president had instructed him to hold the Earthers off as long as possible before surrendering the planet. Even if the Mobians somehow won the battle, the casualties would be disastrous. The Mobian navy had so far lost three ships for every Earth ship destroyed. Kryche didn't expect that trend to change, and the estimated number of Earth ships spotted by the scouts was only slightly fewer than the number of ships in his own fleet.

The urge to smoke a cigarette had been nagging at his mind for hours. _Was it all happening again?_ he thought. Could he have really become addicted again that quickly? _Oh, what the hell,_ he thought as he pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his hip pocket. _I'm probably going to die soon anyway._

Just as he raised the lighter, he heard a klaxon go off. Its frantic blaring could only mean one thing. He looked up through the window and saw hundreds of pinpoints of light--Earth ships. He dashed out of his quarters towards the bridge just as both sides opened fire.

--

Riptos followed the radiologist into the MRI examination room. Before the exam he had had to remove all his clothing and even the wedding band on his finger and the stud in his left ear, and put on one of those abominable hospital gowns that were open in the rear, leaving his ass hanging out for all to see. Even worse, the idiots who designed it had it tie up at the back, so the radiologist had to fasten it for him. It seemed like the whole environment had been created purposely to destroy any sort of dignity.

The medicine Bookshire had given him was only marginally effective, making his back cramps merely awful instead of excruciating. The pain never completely went away, and when the painkillers wore off, the agony was as strong as ever.

The MRI machine dominated the room, a monstrous tubular machine encased in beige plastic with a control panel on one side. "Lie down on the bed inside," said the radiologist. Riptos tried to remember her name. Stella Ertelmeyer or something like that. Her voice had a sugary sweet quality that made him want to punch her. "You don't need to be completely in the barrel of the MRI--you can keep your head outside. I can give you some medication if you feel claustrophobic." She scratched him behind the ears in that infuriatingly condescending manner typical of medical personnel. He fought down the urge to raise his spines and give her a piece of his mind. He could tolerate Bookshire treating him like a child, but not some airhead med student half his age. He wondered if she liked being able to talk down to high-ranking officers with impunity.

Knowing that it was pointless to do anything but swallow his pride and let her go on her doctor power trip, he lay down inside the machine. He wished that the gown could be longer, as it was too short for him to bunch it between his legs and cover his nakedness. It wouldn't have been quite so bad if the radiologist weren't a woman and didn't have that unsettling smile on her face whenever she looked at him.

He felt a magnetic coil close around his torso. The radiologist handed him a pair of headphones. "Put these on your head," she said. "It will protect your ears against the noise."

Riptos put the headphones on his head. They were a different shape from those used by humans, and secured with a chin strap since Riptos' ears were on top of his head instead of on the sides.

"Now hold still. This will be the first of five scans. It will take about ten minutes. Would you like an injection to help you relax?"

Riptos couldn't control his nervouness. He certainly couldn't lie completely still for ten minutes. "Yes, please."

The radiologist approached Riptos, holding a syringe filled with a clear liquid. She stuck the needle into his neck, injecting a mild sedative into him. She placed a hand on his forehead. "Why are you so tense?" she said.

Riptos sighed. "First of all, I don't like hospitals. Second, I don't like being effectively naked in front of strange women. Third, I don't like the way you look at me and touch me. It makes me nervous."

"Don't worry. I'm a doctor. This is nothing new to me. Just trust me."

Riptos relaxed involuntarily as the sedative took effect. He felt drowsy and seemingly disconnected from his body, as if he were an observer of his own existence. His brain seemed to work in slow motion. He had experienced sedation before, after being wounded in combat a few years ago, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it. It was relaxing and strangely pleasant, but it was also disempowering. He never liked being taken care of. He had good reason to dislike it.

He had spent years in the hands of others when he had been sent to the monastery on Orososh after his parents were murdered. Those years were the worst of his life, ultimately culminated in being flogged until he was near death after being caught sleeping with the high priest's daughter, and then escaping with her. Now she was his wife, and the scars of being whipped were now invisible unless the fur around them was parted. But the memories of agony and humiliation and high priest Sarko bellowing prayers and invocations while watching the monks carry out their torture on his perennial problem child remained, often haunting his dreams and making him wake up at night, panting and looking around the room to make sure he wasn't in the monastery again.

He closed his eyes, trying to call to mind pleasant ideas and memories, as the droning click-clack of the MRI machine boomed in his ears.

--

Rex looked over to the left as a particle beam from an Earth cruiser sliced a Mobian starship in half. The Mobian defenses were faltering as waves of Earth warships pounded at them. The Green Dragons were accompanying a group of ships sent to dislodge the Earth flotilla that had been destroying the military escorts of the refugee ships from Wolf 359 and boarding the refugee ships to search for weapons and arrest the security guards before letting the ships pass. He saw a salvo of particle beams from the lead Mobian destroyer slam into an Earth ship's shields as the Mobian ships entered firing range.

"Maintain escort formation, but at a greater distance," said Lt. Commander Anastasio. "Do not let any bombers through."

Rex watched bombers pour out of the hulking carrier ship at the center of the Earth flotilla, smaller fighters surrounding them like worker bees around a queen. The sheer number of them was horrifying. He looked at the targeting monitor on the heads-up display. The bombers were twelve seconds to engagement range. Earth and Mobian capital ships were already trading fire.

Eight seconds.

Five seconds. Rex felt his entire body tense as the Earth attackers closed in.

Three seconds.

Two...one...

Rex fired guns and missiles simultaneously as the targeting reticle turned red. Enemy ships began disappearing in eruptions of fire and light. The Earthers soon responded in kind, tearing space asunder with searing blue particle beams and wispy white missile trails.

He circled around the ship he was assigned to protect, taking potshots at Earth ships as they whizzed by. There were too many to count, and they greatly outnumbered the Mobian fighters. He knew it would be impossible to stop them, but until he was told to retreat, it was do or die.

He smiled grimly as a quick burst of fire tore apart an Earth bomber and detonated its freshly launched bombs. His ship shook as the shockwave hit, but the shields held. That was his fifth kill of the war. He could expect an Ace pin when he returned to base--if he returned at all.

He hit his burners as another Earth ship flew by, gritting his teeth as he tried to match speed with it. But this time his foe was ready. The enemy ship began to spin around. Rex activated his side thrusters to try to get out of its line of fire, but he reached the side throttle just as the enemy fired.

_Oh shit._

Rex's fighter shuddered violently, the bang caused by the impact of enemy gunfire almost deafening him. He could still maneuver, but he was leaking fuel and his shield generator was destroyed. He would surely die if he stayed out here. "Command, this is Christensen! I'm hit! I've lost shields, my targeting computer's out, and there's a fuel leak."

"Affirmative. Can you maneuver?"

"Yes, but two of my RCS thrusters are out. I'm going to be a sitting duck out here. I need immediate extraction."

"Get your ass as far away from that firefight as possible. We're sending a recovery craft now."

Rex hit his burners again, trying to escape the Earth ships with his remaining fuel. He saw two fighters break away to pursue him. If he still believed in God, he would've started praying. A low-fuel alarm was blasting in his helmet. He wasn't going to make it.

Rex felt the force pressing him into his seat cease as his fighter's engines consumed the last of their fuel supply. There was only one thing to do. He pulled the eject lever, realizing that he hadn't been quick enough as the mother of all loud noises nearly blew his eardrums out.

--

"Well, Riptos," said Bookshire, "We took a look at the results from your exams and I think we've found what's been causing your back pain. Nerves in your back are firing inappropriately, causing muscle spasms."

"So what can be done about this?"

"Your condition can be managed with a topical muscle relaxant." Bookshire took out a tube full of some sort of medicated cream. "Apply this to the painful spots on your back every night. If your symptoms do not improve within three days, tell me. The worst-case scenario would require surgery, which would require you to resign. I know you're very reluctant to give up your job, but that may eventually be necessary."

"I hope this works then."

"The MRI scan also revealed that you have a condition called spinal stenosis. The inside walls of three of the vertebrae of your spine are slowly contracting around your spinal cord. You will have about five years until symptoms set in, so you'll reach mandatory retirement age before having to worry about this, but it will eventually require surgical correction."

"Sounds absolutely wonderful. I'm so thrilled I could take a bullet through the head." Riptos sighed as the realization of his own deteriorating health set in. How would he support his family if his back gave out? Would he suffer spinal cord damage? He ran through a list of horrible things that such damage could cause in his mind--weakness, paralysis, incontinence, impotence, the list went on and on. "I'm going to be disabled by the time I'm 47. So much for aging gracefully."

"Don't worry. With prompt treatment, someone suffering spinal stenosis can avoid any spinal cord injury."

"Prompt treatment means I get my back cut open and spend months in bed."

"Please, whatever you do, don't try to put surgery off until you can't stand or walk anymore. I know how much you dread surgery or other incapacitating medical treatment, but the alternative is worse. You can't run away from your own health. It will catch up to you sooner or later. Besides, since you joined the military, you don't have to pay for it."

"I'll think about this. I've always feared losing control of my life. People have always come to me for help and leadership. I provide for my family. I take care of the men in my squadron. I don't want to lie helpless in a bed while my friends and family pity me. I don't know if it's a nurturing instinct or plain old pride or what, but being a liability to other people is the only thing that truly terrifies me."

"We all have to face our fears someday. Just remember--no one's invincible. Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and let go. You try to be everyone's friend and guardian angel because you didn't have one when you were young. It's a doctor's job to take care of people in need. When you're ready to have your spine fixed, I'll be there for you. Just don't wait too long."

Riptos sighed again. "I'll try, Bookshire."

"That's a start. If you can bring yourself to accept massage therapy, I can schedule the sessions to not interfere with your work. Is three times a week acceptable? I think it will help you psychologically as well as physically. I could also give you some minor physiotherapy, because your recent physicals indicate your flexibility and endurance aren't nearly as good as they used to be."

"Fine. Those pills don't work worth a damn anyway. Two years before I have to retire come hell or high water, five years before I have to have major surgery to avoid becoming a cripple. What am I if not a soldier and a provider?"

"You will have to decide that yourself. And I'm sure that if you try, you'll be able to do that much more easily than you think. You've had the strength to raise a family, become a military officer, get your own command, and lead your men in combat against people who would very much like to kill you. If you can do that, I don't see much that you can't do."

"I guess you're right. When's the first therapy session?"

"How does tomorrow at nine PM sound?"

"2100 hours? Sure, that's fine. I guess I have nothing better to do at that time anyway. I might even be glad to get away from that stupid industrial bullshit Rex likes to listen to. I like music with actual melody. The only thing worse is my son's favorite music. It's basically one guitar riff over and over while a human hits drums as fast as possible and another human makes these horrible throat-scraping growls and shrieks."

"We're actually treating someone who sings for one of those ensembles, if 'singing' is the word. His growling and screaming damaged his vocal cords. We had to perform surgery on his larynx and we're giving him paralytic drugs to keep him from using his voice until his vocal cords have healed. Maybe communicating by typing on a keyboard will teach him to find a more sensible style. He can count himself lucky if his voice doesn't change. By the way, I think you should look up those bands he likes to listen to. Some of those people sing about truly appalling, nihilistic things. On the other hand, many of them don't. It's best to be informed."

"I'll talk to Elena about it. Ryudo's always been a nice kid, and I want to make sure he stays that way, but I also don't want to arbitrarily say that he can't do or listen to something, because that's not fair. Sometimes you have to understand before you act."

"Spoken like a true parent. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Riptos walked out of Bookshire's office, not sure what to think or feel. He hadn't been so confused and directionless since before he joined the navy. A terrible sense of foreboding hung over him as he went back to his quarters to think about what to do with his life.

--

Every war involved the black arts of espionage, deception, and assassination to some degree. Covert operations were as old as warfare itself, and Fizetta Inverno was literally born for the job.

She and her retinue were the products of decades of genetic technology, natural born killers genetically tailored for war. Some, like Fizetta, were telepaths, able to enter and control people's minds, or even kill them without lifting a finger. Some had built-in weapons or other offensive tools. Still more could interface with all manner of devices as if they were extensions of themselves, perform feats of strength that far surpassed any normal Mobian or human, see things invisible to anyone else, or anything that geneticists desired.

She had been sent by Mobian intelligence to find answers no one else could find. Fizetta had always been good at sniffing out intrigue, and the war reeked of it. It was no mere coincidence that groups of Mobian and Earth fighters attacked targets within each other's territory. The timing and the symmetry of the attacks was too perfect. Encrypted transmissions had been intercepted during both attacks that conformed to no known official protocols. Fiz doubted the war was a war at all. It was a puppet show. And she now had to find the puppeteers.

Her ship, the _Maleficent_, was small and stealthy, a far cry from the lumbering warships that pounded each other in the massive set-piece fleet battles in 61 Cygni. And now, far away from the battle lines, she was going to find what was beneath the facade. Mobian intelligence officers had finally pinpointed the source of the encrypted transmissions. Her ship was streaking through jumpspace alone. She didn't need anyone else besides her and her two most trusted apprentices. With assassins, less was more. She and her retinue could do more damage sneaking around through obscure jump points than a whole fleet of ships.

She licked her lips at the thought of plying her deadly trade once again. She was born to kill, she lived to kill, and she would die killing. Just like Takeo Sekaro. After all, she would know. She was the one who killed him.


	11. The Fall of 61 Cygni Part II

**Chapter Ten: Fall of 61 Cygni Part II**

_"The course of the essence sharpens the lines  
Of the dimensions I am trembling between  
The inner cause of the outer cause  
Reflections within the core"_

--Borknagar - Ad Noctum

As soon as Riptos stepped out of the infirmary into the corridor outside he was met with the sound of voices, footsteps, and the scraping of wheels against the ground. He looked over to the right and saw several medical technicians quickly wheeling a gurney towards the infirmary door. He stepped out of the way and watched them pass, and then his heart stopped when he saw the hedgehog on the gurney. A hedgehog in his late twenties with red fur lay on the gurney, unconscious, a rag wrapped around his head with blood soaking through and a breathing mask around his muzzle.

_Oh, God_, Riptos thought as he recognized Rex on the gurney. His friend was deathly still, his eyes closed. Was he even alive?

"Excuse me," he said as he followed the technicians.

"Sorry, this is an emergency, sir. Please don't interrupt us," said one of the medtechs, not even turning to look at him.

Riptos could do nothing but watch as they wheeled his friend into the emergency room. His blood had turned to ice inside his veins. All of his thoughts had shattered, leaving only fear and sorrow for his friend. He looked down at the floor for a few seconds before turning and walking back out of the infirmary. This was the first time he had seen one of his comrades wounded or killed. _Why did it have to be Rex?_ he thought. It was unbearable to think about, but he could think of nothing else.

Now Riptos understood the full horror of war. It was worse than he had ever imagined. The casualties were not statistics. They were people, with lives, who loved and were loved. And they could even be his friends.

--

Fiz clicked on her flashlight as she entered the dark cargo hold. She had come to unchain her apprentice Dynamo. Dynamo was left manic and highly unstable after surviving a telepathic attack by Takeo Sekaro. His psychosis made it too dangerous to let him roam around. He only seemed to be calm when he was restrained in a dark room. When out in the open he would attack anything and anyone besides Fiz and Abbadon, her other apprentice. Despite his madness, he had his uses. He could connect with and manipulate electronics as if they were part of himself using the implants in his arms, and blades attached to his hands made him a deadly fighter. Plus, he made an excellent terror weapon and even more excellent diversion.

She saw a glint as the light reflected off Dynamo's eyes. His face was gaunt, stretched taut, a lust for death and brutality in his eyes. A killing machine through and through. He let out a bizarre sucking noise as he grinned widely.

"You're going to kill today, Dynamo," said Fiz as she walked over to him.

"Kill who?" Dynamo's voice was harsh and scraping, halfway between a growl and a shriek.

"Humans. Sound fun?"

Dynamo grinned again, spittle dribbling down his chin. Fiz pulled out a key and opened his shackles. The mad hedgehog stood up, his expression feral and savage. He was no threat to her, but to the humans she was about to be in combat with, he would be a terrifying sight. He followed her out of the cargo hold, hunched over like a gorilla. She scratched him behind the ears and listened to his weird, ragged purr.

Johan "Abbadon" Kessler stood waiting for her as she left the cargo hold, Dynamo in tow. He was a tall, massively built raccoon with a mechanical arm ending in six retractable edged and blunt weapons. Metal plates covered his chest, providing built-in armor, and moderate telepathic powers rounded out his deadly talents. Unlike Dynamo, he had a cold, calculating mind, just as vicious, but more restrained and rational. He delighted in devising inventive and excruciating ways to kill his enemies.

"It's showtime," said Fiz as she turned to face him.

"I'm more than ready," said Abbadon with a grim smile.

"Remember, Abbadon," she said. "No mutilations."

"Of course."

"We're going to be boarding the humans' asteroid base from space, so we'll be wearing stealth suits for this mission." Fiz led her two henchmen into her ship's staging room. Three black suits of powered armor with built-in thruster packs hung on the wall. Abbadon's suit featured a gasketed opening for the end of his mechanical arm to fit through so he could deploy his weapons.

The three of them disrobed and put on their stealth suits. The black visors concealed their faces, making them identifable only as malevolent black shapes bent on slaughter and pain. They made their way to the air lock. In their mission they would save lives by taking others. Death for death. It was beautifully symmetrical.

They entered the airlock, the heavy pressure door closing behind them. Their stealth suits only had enough fuel to reach the asteroid base. The return trip would be via teleporter. The outer airlock door, opened, revealing the vacuum of space. The asteroid base loomed below them, completely unsuspecting. They would be in for a rude awakening indeed. Fiz activated her ion rockets and blasted out of the airlock, Abbadon and Dynamo following close behind.

--

Skitz followed closely behind Lt. Commander Anastasio, hitting his afterburners in unison with the leader. He had been assigned as Anastasio's wingman after Rex was shot down. He had been able to do nothing but watch helplessly as the recovery craft towed away Rex's damaged cockpit module. They had said nothing other than that he had been taken to the infirmary. He knew nothing of how badly injured Rex was or even whether he was alive or dead. He fought the urge to shed a tear as he thought of the man with whom he had trained, the rising star of his squadron. In sheer talent, if not skill, Rex outshined even Riptos himself.

To fly a mission with neither Rex nor Riptos was almost unbearable. This upstart Anastasio clearly and constantly expressed his contempt for everyone in the squadron. He could not fathom how such a total asshole could even be considered for the post of squadron leader. Riptos treated the members of his squadron like sons. Gedalio Anastasio treated them as burdens.

The Mobian defense of Titus II was falling apart. The Mobian fleet had lost a quarter of its ships and they were being pushed closer and closer to the planet. The Earthers left a gap to allow the Mobians to retreat or send back dead or wounded, but they were otherwise surrounded.

Skitz watched dozens of Earth fighters whiz by as he entered the combat zone. Space was criss-crossed with dozens of particle beams slicing across the cosmos to slam into armored panels and shields. He rolled his ship sideways as a missile flashed by. He retaliated with a missile of his own, destroying his attacker. A Mobian cruiser crumbled beneath his ship as it was hit by six particle beams at once.

He fired his guns, yellow beams stabbing at the void to hopefully tear through Earth ships' shields and armor. The scene was that of pure chaos as hundreds of ships swerved, juked, and slid in a chaotic dance of death. He watch an Earth fighter tumble end over end after one of his shots clipped one of its gun pods. A blast from a capital ship finished it off.

He looked on as the ends of the main cannons of the Earth cruisers glowed blue, ready to release another massive strike on the Mobian fleet. It was as if space itself brightened from the light of hundreds of particle beams. As he looked back, he saw in horror that they were not firing at the Mobian ships, but past them, at the planet. His guts twisted as he watched the Earth ships bomb Titus II relentlessly, destroying infrastructure and defensive positions with the precision of a surgeon. He could almost hear the cries of thousands of dead in his mind.

He snarled and tore into an Earth bomber before it could fire its warheads at a Mobian ship. It exploded violently, the shockwaves from its bombs throwing his ship off course. He quickly got his fighter back under control and redirected power from areas of his shields that were weakened. He saw a Mobian cruiser break up out of the corner of his eye, flames gouting from numerous breaches in its hull.

The Earth ships opened flaps on their prows, unleashing hundreds of nuclear missiles at the Mobian fleet. Some of the missiles were shot down, but others found their targets, blasting apart capital ships and any fighters that were too close to the capships targeted. Just as he looked back upon his leader, an incandescent blue beam lanced out from an enemy corvette and skewered Anastasio's fighter. His erstwhile superior died instantly, his ship disintegrating within moments.

Skitz was now at the top of his squadron's chain of command. He had never been a leader of anything before, but he had no choice but to be one now.

"Dude, Anastasio's dead!" said Pinky. "Holy shit!"

"Don't tell me," said Skitz. "I saw it happen with my own eyes. All right, Deathwish, you're my wingman. Everyone else, carry out whatever orders you already have."

Skitz made a brief prayer as he steadied his shaking hand. He did not dare close his eyes. Did he have the makings of a leader? He would find out. Sighing through his nostrils, he hit his afterburners a few seconds after Deathwish assumed formation behind him, the chaos of war surrounding him.

--

Rex felt a terrible, raw pain in his forehead as he regained consciousness. He felt someone's hand resting between his ears and a bandage around his head. He opened his eyes and saw a blur of black, yellow, flesh color, and olive green. "Riptos?" he groaned.

"I'm here." Rex's eyes focused and he saw Riptos standing over him, smiling warmly.

"Where am I?"

"You're in the infirmary. You had a concussion when your fighter exploded just as you ejected. You have a cut on your head, which the doctors closed with stitches."

"I feel horrible."

"That's a combination of post-concussion digestive upset and the drugs you're being given. There's a bucket on the nightstand if you need it."

"I guess I must've been in a battle then, but I don't remember. The last thing I remember was being in the briefing room with the substitute squadron leader."

"Some memory loss is normal after a concussion."

"Oh, shit." Rex grabbed the bucket from the nightstand and threw up into it, retching and gagging for a few seconds afterward.

"You can wash your mouth out with this." Riptos put a straw in Rex's mouth. "Be careful not to drink too fast."

Rex eagerly gulped down water until the straw was removed. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome. The doctors performed a CAT scan of your head. There's no permanent damage. However, you won't be able to fly again for two weeks."

"Two weeks? Christ. The war might be over by then at the rate we're going."

"Maybe. But with a head injury we can't take chances. Oh, by the way, I have something for you." Riptos pulled out two medals. One was an Ace pin, awarded to a pilot for having five kills in a campaign, and the other was the Blood Cross, an award for wounds or death in combat.

"Two medals at once. How often does that happen? Granted, one of them is one I'd rather have gone without."

Riptos scratched Rex behind the ears. "I'll take them to your quarters later. The nurses would have a fit if I pinned them to your hospital gown."

Rex chuckled as Riptos sat down in a chair by his bedside. "You had me worried sick, Rex," said Riptos as he stroked Rex's brow with his thumb. "I left the infirmary after my back exam just in time for me to see them bring you in."

"So what about whatever battle I was in before I got knocked out?"

"They're not saying anything about how we're faring. My guess is that we're losing, as usual."

"I'm glad you're here, Riptos."

"And I'm glad you're alive." Riptos rubbed Rex behind the ears again. "Until now, I'd never really thought of me or someone close to me being hurt or killed in this war. And now, I can't stop thinking about it."

Rex smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying Riptos' company. As much as he wished to sleep, thoughts of the battle waging in 61 Cygni kept him awake. He had narrowly escaped death. He could not help but dread that the Mobian Federation would not be so lucky.

--

Fiz landed lightly as the artificial gravity systems in the floor of the docking bay pulled her down. Abbadon and Dynamo soon followed. She motioned to Dynamo. "Hack the airlock control panel for us," she said.

"Sure," rasped Dynamo as he connected his prosthetic manipulators to the control panel. Within seconds, the airlock's outer door opened. The three of them entered the airlock, waiting as the airlock filled with air and the inner door opened, granting them access to the station.

The three of them removed the outer layers of their stealth suits, leaving them in the neoprene undersuits. Walking around a space station in a bulky spacesuit would be impractical. They stuffed the discarded outer suits into a nearby closet.

_/All right/ _she said to Abbadon and Dynamo telepathically._ /Let's split up. Dynamo, you go find the station's power center and take control. Abbadon, you kill people, blow things up, and generally get everyone's attention while I head towards the control center. I'll keep a telepathic link open beteen the three of us./_

Abbadon and Dynamo nodded in unison. The three of them went off in different directions. Fiz crawled into an air vent and began to make her way through the ventilation system. She had memorized the base layout obtained from scans before beginning the mission. She knew exactly where she was going. Soon she could hear shouts and gunfire in the distance. Abbadon was already at work.

--

Holding a fallen guard's rifle in one hand, Abbadon shot a human in the stomach while stabbing another one with a blade in his mechanical arm. While the officer was wearing an Earth naval uniform, the men serving him were wearing a different, black leather uniform bearing an emblem of a black gloved fist in a white circle. It did not match any known Earth uniform. They carried a motley assortment of weapons from several manufacturers, some modified beyond factory specifications.

He lunged at one of the leather-clad soldiers and stabbed him in the groin, bringing the man to his knees, before shooting him in the head and jumping out of the way as another soldier fired at him. He could read the soldiers' intentions with telepathy before they acted. and combined with telepathic confusion, he was able to render the enemy soldiers completely impotent to stop him. Some of them were even shooting each other.

He dashed away down the hall as the enemy guards were overcome by chaos. They would be back soon, and would again be driven mad and slaughtered. The body count would be glorious.

--

Dynamo shambled through the corridors vacated by the diversion Abbadon had created, trying his best to be silent. He stepped lightly and quieted his normally loud, raspy breathing. He kept his hand-blades out, ready to stab anyone who came in his path, or fry someone with an electrical discharge from the blades. He turned around the corner and saw a human technician working at a control panel. He shocked the man's brain, killing him instantly. The smell of burning flesh made him salivate. He loved the smell, the sound, everything about people dying. He grinned like a lunatic as he stepped over the technician's corpse.

He connected his manipulators to the control panel, viewing a map of the base, taking note of where enemy patrols were. He might have been psychotic, but he wasn't stupid. He watched the panel for about a minute to memorize the panel and then slinked away, pausing briefly to stab the human's corpse and lick the blood off his hand-blades. He savored the metallic flavor, better than any wine.

He ducked into a corner as a guard walked past, leaving when the coast is clear. He fought off the temptation to kill one of the guards and drain his blood. He could spill blood later.

--

Adrian checked his email on the computer installed in his room. As usual, they all seemed to be unsolicited advertisements, scams, and messages with bizarre subjects whose contents were better left unknown. As he looked through the new messages, one of the sender names caught his eye: "Rex Christensen". Rex had sent him a message? He opened it quickly and began to read.

_"Hey Adrian:_

_Sorry I couldn't talk to you these past few days. Riptos was really upset after I woke up with a hangover and he's pretty much watching me constantly now. Hopefully I should get a free day soon and we'll be able to meet up. No drinks this time, though. I already got punished with a day confined to quarters and forfeiture of three days' pay for getting all shitfaced the last time._

_"As you probably know thanks to the gloom and doom crew in the news media, we're losing the battle in 61 Cygni. The Earthers are getting ready to attack Titus II and I seriously doubt we'll be able to hold the planet. Riptos is getting his back looked at by Bookshire today--he's been having backaches for a long time, probably because he's getting older--so we have a substitute squadron leader who's an arrogant little dirtbag and has some ridiculous Italian name--Gedalio Anastasio. The first thing he did this morning was berate us for several minutes. And he's the same rank I am, so I had to take a temporary demotion for the little cowfucker. I hope he never gets a permanent command._

_"If Mobius gets bombed and you lose your home, you're welcome to stay with me and my wife until you can find a new place to live. I don't think Connie would mind at all. I told her about you and she's eager to meet you._

_"Well, I'm about to go on a combat sortie, so I'll have to wrap it up here. Please respond as soon as it is convenient for you. I hope your day is better than mine is shaping up to me. See you around._

_--Rex"_

Adrian smiled. He was wondering why Rex hadn't talked to him recently, and it made him happy to know that his new friend was still concerned about him. His eyes flicked over "combat sortie" again, and he suddenly felt a vague dread. Had anything happened to him on that mission?

He downloaded the latest casualty reports for the war, which by government policy were open to the public. He entered "Christensen" into the search box. What he saw next turned his blood to ice:

_"CHRISTENSEN, REX. LIEUTENANT COMMANDER. WOUNDED IN ACTION."_

He felt a lump in his throat. Rex was hurt, but there was no information on how he was injured, what injuries he had, or how seriously he was hurt. For all he knew, Rex could be near death. He quickly stood up and made for the door. He had to check up on him. He just made a friend. Losing him so quickly would be beyond terrible.

--

Riptos picked up the phone in his quarters. As the squadron leader, it was his duty to report injuries or deaths in his squadron to family members. Rex's parents were on Earth, which was unreachable due to the war, but he could call his wife. He dialed Connie Christensen's phone number and waited for her to respond.

He heard the click as the phone on the other end was taken off the hook. "Hello?" said Connie.

"Hello, this is Riptos. Remember me? I'm Rex's squadron leader. We had dinner last Christmas."

"Of course."

"I need to talk to you about your husband."

"Rex? Did something happen to him?"

Riptos closed his eyes briefly, trying to find the best words to say to her. "He was wounded in action. His fighter was destroyed, and he ejected late, so he was caught in the blast wave."

He heard Connie gasp. "Oh my God!" She sounded as if she was on the edge of tears.

"He suffered a concussion and a laceration on his forehead. He lost consciousness for about an hour. He'll be OK, but he won't be able to fly for a week. He's currently in the infirmary. I can bring the phone to him if you want."

"Please. Oh, God, I hope he'll be all right. Head injuries have a way of being worse than they seem."

"Sure. I'll call you back when I get to his hospital room and let him talk to you."

"Thank you so much, Riptos."

"You're welcome." He pressed the "off" button on the phone and walked briskly out of his room.

--

When Riptos entered Rex's room in the infirmary, he saw him chatting avidly with the youth with whom he had gotten drunk with a week ago. "Move aside, kid," he said to the young man. I've got Rex's wife on the phone and she wants to talk to him."

Adrian nodded and leaned against the wall near the foot of Rex's bed. Riptos handed the phone to Rex, who put it to his ear.

"Hey, Connie. It's me, Rex," he said. "Yeah, I got shot down in combat today and got my head bashed in by a piece of equipment in the cockpit. I've got a splitting headache and stitches in my head, but other than that I'm fine. The doctors don't want me on duty for a week in case any hidden problems crop up. They're going to keep me in the hospital for observation tonight, but after that I can go back to my quarters."

"Oh, Rex, sweetie, I'm so glad to know that you're not seriously hurt. I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard that you had gotten shot down. I was afraid you were going to die."

"Riptos pretty much said the same thing to me. He got to see me wheeled into the emergency room. I'm probably very lucky to be alive, but luck has always seemed to be on my side." Rex laughed briefly.

"I see you've still got your sense of humor. I spend every day worrying about you. I know you'd never want to quit the navy, but sometimes I wish you would. It's so dangerous out there."

"Oh, don't worry. It's not as bad as people say it is." Rex had a feeling that this would soon change in a big way, but he didn't say it to Connie. "And I got two medals for my trouble."

"Please take care of yourself. I don't want you to get hurt again, sweetie."

"Of course. I didn't get the rank of Lieutenant Commander by being reckless. I'm feeling pretty tired. Can we talk again tomorrow?"

"Sure. I love you, Rexy."

"I love you too. Bye, Connie."

"Goodbye. Be careful out there." Rex pressed the "off" button and handed the phone to Riptos before pulling the covers over his shoulders.

"I guess we'd better leave then," said Adrian. "I don't want to disturb your sleep."

"All right. See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Rex," said Adrian as he walked out.

Riptos patted Rex on the head. "Good night, kiddo," said Riptos. "I hope you can stomach the hospital food. It's pretty nasty."

Rex chuckled. "I'll try. Good night." He rolled over and closed his eyes as Riptos left the room. At least he could get some free time until he was fit for combat again. Perhaps he could even get away with getting drunk this time. The fuzzy feeling in his head created by the painkillers the doctors had given him grew stronger and stronger until he finally fell asleep.

--

Admiral Townswell smirked as she watched the last of the Mobian fleet leave 61 Cygni, abandoning the planet Titus II to its fate. Over two million Earth troops were already on the planet, mopping up any remaining resistance. The blood of over 1.5 million humans had secured 61 Cygni for the Earth Republic. The Mobians would never recover from such a decisive blow. Almost 30 of their naval forces had been neutralized. Five million Mobians were dead, and another 800,000 had been taken prisoner.

Already the pirates were doing their work across Mobian space. Supply lines were being disrupted, space traffic had been restricted, and some particularly bold pirates were even attacking Mobian space colonies. But the main purpose of hiring the pirates--dispersing Mobian military forces--was not being accomplished. The Mobians just refused to take the bait even when it was thrown at their feet. Kryche Akwarus must have been even cleverer than she realized. It would make it all the more satisfying to see him hang.

--

Fiz saw the station commander turn around as she dropped out of the vent shaft into his office. Hello, she said telepathically before paralyzing him from head to toe.

The commander was sprawled on the ground, his face frozen in an expression of shock. _/Why are you so shocked, commander/ _she taunted. _/Have you not seen a telepath before. Don't try to call out. The only way you can communicate is through my telepathic link./_

_/You bitch./_

_/That's not a nice thing to call a lady./_

The commander's face contortred even more as Fiz caused his pain receptors to fire telepathically. She could only imagine the screams he would make if he was not paralyzed.

_/What do you want from me/_

_/I want to know the combination to your safe and the security codes to the station's computers./_

_/I won't tell you anything./_

_/Wrong answer./_ She flooded him with pain again, hearing him cry out in his mind, even though his vocal cords were paralyzed. She was the only one who could hear his agony.

_/Please! Stop! Make it stop/_

_/Then answer my questions./_

_/The security code to my safe is 2-16-38-4./_

Fiz grinned and entered the combination into the safe, opening it. She removed the papers inside.

_/Good man./_

_/Who do you work for/_

_/Figure it out. And you still have to tell me the security codes to the computers. Cough them up now if you want to survive./_

As he told her the security codes, she relayed them telepathically to Dynamo, who was now cracking the station's computer system, downloading files into the memory chips implanted in his brain.

_/Whoever the hell you are, you won't get away with this/_ said the commander through the telepathic link.

_/Yes I will. I've faced far more difficult missions than this./_

_/I've got it all downloaded, Fiz/_ said Dynamo. _/We've got everything we need./_

_/Thank you, Dynamo. Now I will take care of the sniveling wretch on the floor before me./_

Fiz walked over to the stiff but still living body of the commander and put her hands around his neck, but didn't squeeze yet. She grinned, showing her fangs. _/Now, my friend, you will die./_

_/You said you wouldn't kill me if I told you want you wanted to know/_

_/I lied. Goodbye./_ She pressed two fingers against his topmost vertebra. The bone split with a sickening wet crack. A further push severed the spinal cord. Now the nerves controlling his heartbeat and respiration were destroyed. He would be dead within minutes. She stood over the doomed man and admired her handiwork before pulling out her communicator.

"Big Bad Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood," she spoke into the communicator. "Elvis has left the building."

"Affirmative," said her ship's captain.

Within seconds whe found herself standing in the ship's transporter room, flanked by Abbadon and Dynamo. Their mission was complete. They now had part of the enemy's plan, had discovered the identity of the "puppet masters" controlling the war, and possibly gathered information that could be used to stop the war before it was too late. How ironic it would be for this bloody and pointless war to be ended by natural born killers such as herself, and equally ironic that hardly anyone in the Mobian Federation would be aware of their great debt.

And, really, she greatly preferred them never knowing.


	12. Downward Spiral

**Chapter Eleven: Downward Spiral**

_"I am a remnant of the forever origin.  
I am the soul of every phantom fallen.  
I am rising as I am falling, silent as calling."_

_--Borknagar - Future Reminiscence_

"All right, Lieutenant Commander Christensen, you should be good to go. Enjoy your week's vacation," said the nurse as Rex finished tying his shoes. "Remember to take your medication and call if you have any complications."

"Of course," said Rex. "I'll be careful." He stood up slowly, bracing himself against the frame of his bed as a headrush made his legs go weak and his vision turn almost black for a few seconds.

"Do you need help?" said the nurse.

"I'm fine," said Rex as he stood up straighter, blinking a few times to clear his vision.

The nurse wrote something on the chart hanging from Rex's bed. "I just approved your discharge from the hospital. Take care of yourself, and come back in a week so we can examine you and approve your return to combat duty."

"Sure, I'll be OK. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Rex left the room and saw Adrian sitting in the waiting room, reading a magazine. Adrian lowered the magazine and looked up as he saw Rex come over to him.

"Hey, Rex," said Adrian. "I was waiting for you. I was hoping we could go somewhere together."

"Sure, why not? The war will probably be over by the time I'm able to go back to work."

"How about I buy the drinks this time?"

"All right. Why don't we get some hangover pills before we go to the bar? I woke up feeling really sick the last time."

"That would be fine. The pharmacy is right around here."

Adrian nodded as he followed Rex over to the pharmacy.

"A week off, huh? I've had to work through worse than the injury you have."

"It would have been two weeks had Captain Parks not demanded a shorter period of observation. But then again, nobody depends on you for their survival. You seem a bit more relaxed than when I first met you."

"Yeah, I've tried to loosen up a little. I still feel stressed out a lot though."

"It's a start, at least. I'm sure you'll find it easier to relax over time." Rex walked up to the pharmacy counter.

"Hello," said the pharmacist. "What can I do for you two?"

"Do you have any pills for preventing hangovers?"

"Yes we do, sir." The pharmacist reached under the counter and pulled out a small red carton. "Here you go. That will be 18.64 credits, please."

Rex handed her his military debit card. She swiped it through a groove in the register and gave it back to him, and then handed him the carton of pills. "Thanks," said Rex.

"You're welcome, sir. Have a nice day."

Rex put an arm around Adrian. "Now it's time to get drunk."

Adrian laughed as they walked together to the bar.

--

"Poor Rex," said Deathwish as he circled the destroyer he was assigned to escort. "He's going to miss the whole war."

"Considering the way it's progressing, I think we're the ones who should be envying him," said Skitz.

"What do you think, Riptos?" said Pinky.

"I don't know." Riptos closed his eyes briefly as the question turned over in his head. On the one hand, he was concerned for his friend's safety and knew he was much safer on Orbital Station 12 than fighting in a war in which every battle was a massacre of the Mobian forces by the Earth forces. On the other hand, he felt bad that Rex had to be apart from his comrades and deprived of the opportunity to defend his people, and for the other members of his squadron who had to fight without Rex. He was torn between being a loving friend and being a soldier and leader, between personal and professional, between peace and war. Having had seen Rex being brought into the emergency room had changed his whole outlook.

"What's the matter, Riptos?" said Deathwish. "You've been awfully quiet today."

"I don't really feel like talking that much today."

"If it's as simple as that, then Pinky's straight as an arrow. You've been acting weird for the past few days, and now you're acting even weirder. What's going on?"

"None of your goddamn business, that's what's going on. Why don't you stick your nose somewhere where it will be welcomed, like up your own asshole?"

"Sorry, I was just trying to have a conversation. I didn't mean to make you mad or anything."

Riptos felt a twinge of guilt as he realized how he had come across. He was now certain that pretty much everyone could see through his insistence that he was feeling all right. But he couldn't bring himself to tell the truth. But why? Was it his pride? No, he realized, it was fear. His mind was full of it. Fear of his squadmates and friends dying. Fear for his family. Fear of having to give up the career he had built his life on. Fear of revealing his favoring Rex, which could disrupt the harmony of the squadron. Fear of the decrepitude of advancing age. Fear of death. Fear of shaming himself by letting his squadmates know of his other fears. Rex and Bookshire were the only people outside his family that he related his innermost troubles to.

"Jeez, Deathwish," said Pinky. "You've gotta learn some tact. The fact that he wasn't talking about it in the first place should've told you something."

"Butt out, fairyhog. I wasn't talking to you."

"Make me, Deathbitch!"

Riptos smirked and shook his head. Deathwish and Pinky were always at each other's throats. They weren't really serious about it, though. They hadn't had an actual fight since they graduated from officer candidate school five years ago. Oftentimes they just bickered to amuse themselves. Despite their endless disagreements, they were alike in many ways that they themselves would never admit.

"Red alert! Reading hostile jump signatures!" Admiral Akwarus' voice sounding through the headphones jolted Riptos to attention. The space before him was dotted with dozens of white points of light, Earth ships entering the battlefield. The first few blue beams reached out from the lead ships to begin the battle. Mobius's score in the war was zero for two now, and Riptos didn't think it would improve.

--

Adrian felt a warmth spread through his body as the two shots of bourbon he had drunk began to take hold. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the counter. "Hey, Max," he said to the bartender. "I think that drink you gave me yesterday was a little strong."

The albino hedgehog grinned as he handed another patron a mug of beer. "I put a little bit of pure grain alcohol in it to make it stronger. Consider it a little treat for first-timers."

"It sure didn't feel like a treat the next morning."

'Well, people have different responses to alcohol. You seem awfully skinny. How much do you weigh?"

"23 kilos."

"Well, there's a reason already. I'd say you should weigh at least 27 kilos, maybe even 30. How often do you drink?"

"That was my first time in two years."

"Sorry if I made you feel bad. I should've been more careful."

"It's OK. We got some hangover tablets today."

Max gestured towards the huge window, where the blue globe of Mobius loomed below the station, the light reflecting from it drowning out the light of the stars, so only a black void could be seen around it. "Either of you kids have family down there?"

"I have a wife on Mobius," said Rex. "She's pregnant with a baby girl."

"My adoptive parents live on Earth, so I can't even talk to them," said Adrian. "As for my real family, I never knew them. My mother is dead and my father is in prison. As for how that came about, I would rather not talk about it."

"I understand," said Max.

"I had a girlfriend that I was planning to propose to, but she dumped me the day I came back from serving on a freighter."

"My condolences. I've never had much luck with the ladies myself. I've been living alone for the past twenty years or so. I own a permanent room on this station."

"Doesn't it drive you crazy to never see day or night? I only signed up to work on a freighter for the money. I hate being in space."

"Well, not everyone can get used to live in a place where it's always dark outside. I guess I'm one of the lucky people who can. I wanted to be a fighter pilot like your buddy Rex when I was young, but I could never pass the vision exams--I don't see too well out these red albino eyes, and glasses don't help much. That's why I always use a magnifying glass to read the labels on the bottles. Hell, one of the reasons I started living on space stations is because I sunburn easily and can't get a tan. So what was it like when you were living on Earth? I'd like to go there someday."

"There are more people than you would believe. Even the skies are congested. Some of the buildings are a kilometer tall. And everything else is huge as well--the knobs on the doors are mounted about as high as the tips of my ears. My adoptive parents were human, and I barely came up past their waists. There are thousands and thousands of cities, and many of them have millions of people in them."

"Did you get along with the humans who adopted you?"

"Yeah. I made a call to them a few days before the war began. I already miss being able to talk to them." He looked over towards Rex, who had three empty beer mugs in front of him. "Do you plan on getting or another drink or should I just go ahead and pay the tab?"

"I think I've had enough."

"All right then." Adrian handed the bartender some cash and turned to Rex again. "You want to stay here a while or should we go somewhere else?"

"Well, there's really not a whole lot to do here, so let's go."

"Sure. My place again?"

"That would be fine," said Rex as he followed Adrian out the door.

--

"Battle stations! All hands to battle stations!"

Fiz involuntarily dropped the book she was reading as the captain's alert blared through the intercom system. They were far away from the battle lines, and to her knowledge the Earthers had not diverted any ships from their main campaign. Pirates were not brave or foolish enough to attack a heavily armed Mobian intelligence vessel.

She dashed out of her private chambers and saw crewmen dashing frantically down the hallway. She stopped one of the crewmembers who were running by. "What's going on here?" she said.

"A whole fleet of pirate ships just jumped in right on top of us, ma'am. We have no idea how one organization scraped so many ships together, it's just--"

"Shit!" Fiz hissed as the ship shuddered violently from a hit. She ran down the corridor towards the bridge. As the bridge doors opened, she saw dozens of small pirate raider ships on the display screens. "Jesus Christ, look at them all," she said to the captain.

"They just came out of hyperspace. I've never seen pirates work like this, or appear in such great numbers." The ship shook again as another blast struck it.

"Well don't just stand there, get us the hell out of here!"

"Yes, ma'am! Helm, jump to hyperspace immediately!"

"Aye, sir. Engaging jump drive now."

The blackness of space dissolved into a psychedelic swirl of different colors as Fiz's ship jumped into hyperspace. It was much too fast for the pirates to catch in hyperspace, so she and her crew were safe for now. But the incident worried her. What kind of pirate would attack a government intelligence vessel? How did they get so many ships? Were the Earthers, the terrorist group, and these pirates all working together.

The situation was becoming worse than Fiz had ever imagined.

--

Adrian sat down next to Rex on the couch in his quarters, resting his head against Rex's chest. Rex put a hand behind Adrian's head and gently stroked the backs of his ears with his fingers. Adrian sighed and drew a little closer. "Hey, Rex?" he said.

"Yes?"

"How does that officer training corps work?"

"Well, you talk to an OTC recruitment official, and he works with you to find a military position suitable for you and the field that you plan to study in. You receive military training for your post as part of your college education, the military pays all your college expenses, and when you graduate, you serve eight years in the military. After your term is up you have the choice to stay in the military or retire and go into civilian life. It's how I got into the navy."

"Combine a four-year education with eight years of service and I'd be at least 34 before I could live a normal life."

"Depends on what you call a 'normal' life. I still have three years of my term left and I plan to continue my military career when it is up--if the navy still exists after this war is over. But if the Mobian Federation dissolves, the Earth Republic has a similar program if you don't mind working for them."

"I'd rather not, not if I want to have any Mobian friends."

"If any friends of yours would be so narrow-minded and hateful as to shy away from you for doing that, they're not worthy of being your friends. Most of the people fighting on the Earth side are ordinary people just like you or me, doing the job they were told to do. There are demagogues on both sides of this war who paint the other side as evil demons. Just ignore them."

"I guess you're right. I just hear a lot of horrible things on the news and I wonder what some of those people would do if they ever got their hands on my parents--or yours.

"You worry too much, Adrian. And not only that, but you worry about the silliest things."

"Maybe. I'm considering joining the OTC, but I'm not sure if I have what it takes."

"A lot of people say that, but it's just not true. Before I joined, I was just as insecure and out of shape as you, but when I got my commission I was at the top of my flight. If I could do it, you can do it. You just don't want to believe in yourself."

"I see those documentaries about military training on TV and that seems like some crazy stuff."

"That's because you've never tried to think beyond the way you are now. You could do a lot of things if you wanted to, but you'll never do anything if you keep telling yourself you can't."

"I don't know what to think right now. I'm tired and the alcohol is messing with my mind."

"Then maybe we should discuss it later. You don't have to make up your mind right now. Just take your time and think it through. If you choose not to join, I'll underst--" Rex's words trailed off as he realized Adrian was already asleep, slumped in his arms.

--

Riptos used his master security pass to open the door of Adrian's room. When Riptos had returned from his sortie, Rex was neither in his quarters nor in the bar. A conversation with the bartender revealed where they had gone. As he entered the room he saw Rex asleep on the couch, his new friend curled up next to him. Riptos smiled briefly and chuckled as quietly as possible before gently picking Adrian up and placing him on the bed nearby. He sat down next to Rex and gently shook him to wake him up.

Rex's eyes opened slowly. "Huh? Riptos?" he mumbled.

Riptos put a finger up to his lips in the universal signal of quiet. "Hey, Rex," he whispered. "Guess you've had a good time today."

"You could say that." Rex's words were slurred together, his eyes were bloodshot, and the smell of alcohol was heavy on his breath.

"How many drinks did you have?"

"Three. Adrian had two, but he's really sensitive to alcohol. He pretty much passed out a few minutes after he sat down next to me. I didn't want to disturb him so I just sat there with him leaning againt me and let myself fall asleep as well. I don't think he'll be waking up for a long time."

"You look awful. Come with me. I know a way back to our room where pretty much nobody will see us. I don't think you'd want to be seen in public in the state you're in. And when we get there I think you should go straight to bed."

"That's probably a good idea. Don't let Deathwish know about this, OK?"

"Your secret is safe to me. Besides, he'd probably never let you live down snuggling up with skin and bones over there."

"Oh jeez, you saw that?" His cheeks turned red.

"Yeah. I thought it was rather sweet myself."

"You would," Rex groaned.

"Oh cheer up," said Riptos. "I thought I was always the gloomy one."

Rex could not help but laugh a bit at that remark. Riptos then backed up behind him and dug his fingers into Rex's sides, causing Rex to fall to his knees, laughing uncontrollably for a few seconds before Riptos let him go. Rex stood up, bracing himself against Riptos and hyperventilating for a few seconds before he finally regained enough composure to start walking again. He walked beside Riptos down the deserted hallway, eager to return to his room and throw himself into a warm, inviting bed and sleep.


	13. Racing Oblivion

**Chapter Twelve: Racing Oblivion**

_"The dragon breaks the temple wall  
The flood will drown our gods  
Break down the temple wall  
And let another kingdom rise_

_The castle of Olympia  
Is shaken by the storm  
The king lost his crown  
And now the wall is tumbling down"_

--Therion - Typhon

Adrian awoke with all his clothes on, lying across the foot of his bed. He groaned and sat up, his back and legs stiff from his sleeping across his bed instead of in it. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, which was lit only by a few night-light strips that gave off a faint bluish glow. The clock on his bedside read 9:36 AM, the red numbers glowing brightly in the darkness. He climbed out of bed, a spasm wracking his back as he stood up straight. He ran through the events of the previous day, including his drinking session with Rex and falling asleep in his friend's arms. He sighed as he realized he had made an ass of himself yet again. _Not again_, he thought. _At this rate I might as well have "FAG" tattooed on my chest._

He flicked the light on, blinking a few times as he adjusted to the brightness. He longed for a window with sunlight streaming in and a blue sky outside. He had many fond childhood memories of being woken by the first rays of light streaming in through the window and striking his face on a summer morning. Here there was only the cold darkness of space outside, bleak and foreboding. He wished to be back on Mobius and feel the grass in his backyard under his bare feet as he soaked up the sun to get rid of the pasty complexion that came from months spent in space.

He stretched a bit and walked into the bathroom. The station's water rations were now being rotated daily to save, with some rooms being allowed more water on certain days. His room would have a large water allotment today, so he decided to take advantage by having a bath instead of a shower.

Adrian stripped off his clothes and turned on the taps of the bathtub, waiting until it was two thirds full. He put his hand into the water to test the temperature. Just right. He got into the bathtub, closing his eyes as the hot water relaxed his muscles. The pain in his back faded as he sank almost up to his shoulders into the water. He soaked in the hot water for several minutes, allowing himself to relax completely. He began to shampoo the spines on his head as he heard the doorbell ring. He pressed a button on the wall that activated the room's intercom system.

"Hey," said Rex over the intercom link. "It's me, Rex. Can I come in?"

"I'm taking a bath right now. You can come in if you must, just don't open the bathroom door."

"I think I'll just wait outside. I don't want to impose on you. Tell me when you're finished."

"Sure."

After he finished bathing, he put on a bathrobe, wrapped a washcloth around his soggy spines, and let Rex into the room.

"So how are you?" said Rex as he walked in.

"I'm OK. I would feel better if I hadn't been laid across my bed like a piece of laundry. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you, Rex?"

"Riptos did that. I had fallen asleep on the couch with you and Riptos came in, put you there, and woke me up."

"Tell him he gave me a wicked backache."

"I'm sure he would sympathize with you, since he's been having backaches himself recently," said Rex as he sat down and took off the sandals he wore with his civilian clothes. "He's currently taking medication and receiving physiotherapy during the evening to help keep the pain under control. I don't think he'll be able to fly much longer though. He's had a long career, and his age is catching up to him."

"How old is he anyway?"

"Forty-three."

"That's real old for a fighter pilot."

"Yeah. He probably won't retire unless his superiors drag him kicking and screaming on the shuttle home."

"Dedicated to his work, huh?"

"Hell yes. He's never known any other life, really, and I can tell he's afraid of having to find a new direction in life. This job gives him stability and lets him direct his energies outwards to other people. He likes caring for people and hates being dependent himself.

'Hmmmm," said Adrian. He couldn't find words for a reply so he just turned what Rex said over and over in his head.

"He's like a father to me, and he's been mentoring me since I graduated from OCS. He keeps some aspects of our friendship secret from the other members of the squadron to give the appearance that he's not giving me special treatment. I know him well enough to get a glimpse of the side of him that he keeps hidden from other people, and I sense that he's starting to burn out emotionally as well as physically. He doesn't talk or act the same way he used to--it's like a vague aura of gloom follows him everywhere. He thinks he can handle everything himself, but I don't think he can anymore. I'm worried about him, Adrian."

"Have you tried talking it over with him?"

"Yes, but he doesn't listen. He has serious problems that he refuses to acknowledge, and I think the other members of my squadron realize that just as much as I do, but they're afraid to tell him."

Don't you think it would be a good idea to get your comrades together and bring it up in a manner so that he can't just brush it off?"

"That would likely just alienate him, and we would be disrespecting his authority. We could relieve him of his command, but there are three problems with that: first, I am next on the chain of command, and I don't feel like I'm ready to step in to replace him yet. Second, we would have to justify our actions before a military tribunal, and I don't think we could do it. Third, Riptos would feel extremely upset and betrayed. How would you feel if you were a leader and the subordinates you had trusted for years suddenly took away your command against your will?"

"But surely there must be something you can do."

"I can only help him if he wants help. If he refuses to open up, than we will just have to stand by and let his life go wherever it will go."

"I feel sorry for you. I wish there were a way for me to help you."

"You have enough of your own problems. Try to get your own life straightened out before you start trying to fix other people's lives."

"How long have you been in the navy?"

"Five years. This is the first war I've fought in. Riptos became a pilot on the tail end of the War of the Three Powers, and even was injured during one battle. He still has the scar on his chest. He is the only one of us who had seen real combat before this war. That would probably be twenty years ago now. He's also the only one without a college degree because you didn't need one to become an officer back then."

"I've been working on freighters for three seasons now. Each year they give you three months on and nine off, because the work conditions are too hostile for a person to do year-round. Even a three-month season can work hell on your muscles and bones, and I'm currently missing seven teeth due to my work. I couldn't brush them so they became decayed and had to be extracted."

"With all the dirt and grime on those ships, don't you get sick a lot?"

"Hell yes. I spent much of the last season with some illness or another and just worked through it, except for one week where I had a terrible chest infection that made me too sick to work. I get sick frequently even on leave nowadays."

"Does anyone ever die on those ships?"

"Very rarely, but it does happen. People make them out to be death traps, but that's not really true. The usual cause of death is from a bacterial disease epidemic on a ship that runs out of antibiotics."

"So what do you do when you go back home?"

"I mostly just relax and have fun. I spend a lot of the first few weeks after returning at beaches or hot springs so I can get a decent complexion back. The hot water also helps relieve the muscle aches caused by the rehabilitation therapy. Oh jeez, now my back's killing me again."

"Just wait there, I'll get a heating pad from Riptos' room. I don't think he'll mind me borrowing one for a few hours while he's out in combat." Rex put his shoes back on and left the room.

Adrian walked over to his dresser and pulled out some clothes. He quickly removed his bathrobe and got dressed, leaving his shirt unbuttoned so he could slip the heating pad in when Rex came back. He lay down on his bed, trying to draw his mind away from the pain in his back.

--

Fiz effortlessly slaughtered three soldiers who rounded the corner with a telepathic attack as she ran. Her ship had been hounded more or less constantly by pirates for the last day. Now one ship had managed to teleport boarders in. They weren't just raiding to steal something of value, they had come to kill her.

She plunged a knife into the back of a pirate who was trading fire with one of the crewmen and bounded past the startled crewman before crushing another attacker's head with a roundhouse kick. She turned the corner to see Abbadon dismembering a pirate with his mechanical arm and shooting at another with a gun held in the hand of his organic arm.

Fiz came over to Abbadon. "This is fucking nuts!" she yelled over the din of gunfire.

"My sentiments exactly." Abbadon extended a blade from his mechanical arm and decapitated another pirate.

"Where's Dynamo?"

"He's running all around the ship killing people."

Fiz's ears perked up as she heard a voice like Dynamo's let out a bloodcurdling scream. "Fuck!" she yelled. She broke into a run yet again, Abbadon close behind her.

Fiz came to the engine room and found Dynamo lying face-down on the floor, whimpering and bleeding from his shoulder, which was impaled with a metal pole. A cybernetically enhanced human stood over the wounded hedgehog, watching Dynamo trying to get up. The man kicked Dynamo over as soon as the hedgehog had gotten up on his knees. Fiz pounced on the man and punched him in the chest with all of her strength. The human staggered back for a few seconds but then grabbed Fiz's wrist as she launched another post and flung her against the wall.

Abbadon raised his gun but was suddenly overcome by overpowering nausea. He fell to his knees and vomited on the floor, his guts churning. He immediately put up a telepathic block, straining to keep the human from invading his mind. The human clutched his head and howled in pain as Fiz unleashed her own psychic attack. Abbadon fired a burst at the human's chest, but the bullets bounced off the man's subdermal armor. The human retaliated with a sharp kick to the stomach, sending Abbadon across the room. Fiz jammed a knife in between two of the human's armor plates, temporarily incapacitatin him. She lashed out telepathically, frying thousands of neurons and synapes in his head before being blocked out. The man ripped a metal beam out of the ceiling and swung it at her, knocking her out.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Dynamo had risen to his feet and staggered over towards the three combatants. With a cry of fury and rage, he sank his hand-blades into his back and blasted electricity through them. The human let out a strangled cry and toppled over, smoke rising from his body. Abbadon kicked him to make sure she was dead. Dynamo staggered over towards Fiz, sorrow evident on his face. Abbadon put an arm around his torso to keep him from falling.

"She'll be all right. She just got knocked out. I think you're the one in worse shape."

Fiz groaned, opened her eyes, and sat up. "Ow, my fucking head," she said. She stood up and walked over to Abbadon and Dynamo. "Is the party over?" she said.

"Yeah," said Abbadon. Metal-head down there is dead, and I don't hear any gunfire. Looks like we got out of another sticky situation."

"Yeah, but probably not for long. What the fuck kind of pirate group can get ahold of a telepath?"

"I think whoever was running that station really wants us dead."

"Well no shit. We snuck onto the station, killed a whole fuckload of people, hijacked the computer systems, mindfucked and murdered the station commander, and made off with a bunch of documents. The real surprise is that they managed to get on our trail. But I think we should make patching up Dynamo our first priority right now."

Abbadon walked behind Fiz towards the infirmary, helping Dynamo steady himself. They still had a long way to go, and Dynamo would not be fit to fight for quite a while. Now they were down to two, and they had a long and difficult fight ahead of them.

--

"Lieutenant Wishmaster, can you hear me?"

"Uggggghhhhh."

Deathwish opened his eyes and saw a clean white tiled ceiling above him, His leg felt as if it were on fire. Each breath brought a burst of pain. A medic was standing over him, writing something on a clipboard. "Where the hell am I?" he wheezed.

"You're on a medical frigate. Your ship was destroyed by a cluster missile attack. You managed to eject, but not quick enough, it seems. Do you remember what happened?"

"No. Yes. Fuck." He remembered strafing an Earth bomber, the bomber firing a cluster missile, and ejecting as the bomblets tore apart his ship. And Skitz's ship. And Riptos's ship. He suddenly felt a horrible sinking feeling deep in his guts. "Where are Riptos and Skitz?"

"They're also on this ship. They fared better than you. Skitz is just fine and Riptos has a few bruises, but nothing serious enough to keep him out of action. You are not so lucky. Your right leg is broken in four places and three of your ribs are cracked."

"So that's why it hurts to breathe. Fucking Christ piss. Four of us shot down in two days. What wonderful fucking luck."

"Your squadron's losses are nothing exceptional. We've had terrible attrition rates recently. Ships like these are filled near capacity with the dead, dying, and wounded."

"So how is everyone else in the squadron?"

"They're still fighting. Lieutenant Nilman is commanding them."

"Pinky? The fucking poofterhog? Fuck you. I'd rather eat my own shit than see fagboy leading the squadron."

"Well, he is next on the chain of command. Right now, I think you should worry about your own problems and leave the war up to your comrades."

"Whatever. We're all going to hell in a handbasket anyway."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more patients to attend. I'll see you later."

Deathwish watched him leave, feeling pathetic lying in a bed with a shattered leg. Was there any hope for Mobius? Probably not. The Mobian Federation was on its last legs, with Wolf 359 having sold out to Earth. But damned if they wouldn't keep trying.

--

Riptos reclined in an armchair in the room he had been given on the medical frigate, lying on his right side in the chair so his bruises didn't come in contact with anything. His left shoulder and arm, left hip, and tail were badly bruised, and anything that touched them caused considerable pain. His ears twitched as he heard the door opening.

"Hey, boss," said Skitz. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run by a bus, and then the bus backed up and ran over me again. Since I don't have any broken bones like Deathwish or head injuries like Rex, they want me to return to combat tomorrow. I'll probably be able to do it, but it's going to hurt like all hell. Riptos winced as Skitz gently prodded one of the purple splotches on his arm. "Ow! Don't do that!"

"Sorry. That looks like a pretty bad bruise. Would you like me to get you an ice pack to put there?"

"Sure, thanks."

"No problem." Skitz took a Ziploc bag from the kitchen cabinet and filled it full of ice from the freezer, then placed it over the bruise on Riptos' upper arm and shoulder. Riptos grimaced as the cold ice touched his bare skin. He had taken his shirt off earlier to keep the fabric from chafing on the tender skin. He relaxed a little as the cold numbed his skin. "Is that better?" said Skitz.

"Yeah. How goes the battle?"

"We're losing yet again. The Earthers have already taken the system's kuiper belt and are closing in on its outer planets. Junior Lieutenant Kravitz bought it while escorting a Mobian cruiser during the retreat from the kuiper belt."

Riptos's expression changed into one of sorrow. Kravitz was one of the newest members of the squadron, a quiet but energetic young man. He had been only twenty-one years old. "Should I notify the family now?"

"Captain Parks will do it. You need to rest right now. Skitz gently brushed his fingers through the fur on Riptos's back.

"Please stop doing that," said Riptos. "I don't need you to comfort me."

"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"You didn't make me angry. Just...uncomfortable. I know you meant well. So what's Deathwish been doing?"

"The usual shit he does when something he doesn't like happens to him. Cursing, yelling at people, throwing a tantrum, pulling IVs out of his veins until they strapped him to the bed. Will he ever grow up?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. He and Pinky deserve each other."

"Indeed. If you locked them in an elevator, what do you think would happen?"

"I wouldn't want to be the guy who has to fix that elevator." Riptos yawned. "Can you come by some other time? I want to take a nap right now."

"That will be fine," said Skitz as he stood up from his chair and walked towards the door while Riptos lay down on the bed. "Bye, Riptos."

"See you later, Skitz." Riptos tucked his head against his chest. The next day would be the same old routine, and it would repeat over and over until either the Mobians were defeated or he could fight no longer. He closed his eyes and thought of how lucky he, Deathwish, Skitz, and Rex were to have survived being shot down, and of the huge number of pilots who did not have such luck. _C'est la guerre, _he thought.


	14. Two Minutes to Midnight

**Chapter Thirteen: Two Minutes to Midnight**

Riptos looked out the canopy of his fighter at a swirling maelstrom of ships, particle beams, and explosions, constantly shifting around him, a sight bewildering to the eye. He hit his burners, weaving through the chaos. He swerved left as an Earth capital ship fired on a Mobian ship, taking care not to get caught in the crossfire. Dozens of potential targets flitted in and out of his view, so numerous that he had trouble focusing on one to attack. The blue globe of Mobius loomed below him, silhouetting the ships in front of it.

"I never thought it would come to this," said Rex. His voice was heavy with weariness and sorrow, reflecting a man who had beheld the doom of his people. There would be no dawn for the Mobian Federation. The battle was just for show, a futile last stand in a war whose outcome had been predetermined at the outset. "How can we go home again knowing that we've failed everyone down there?"

"We did all we could, Rex," said Riptos. "And we're going to keep doing it until the official surrender is given. I expect everyone in this squadron to stick it out until the end."

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name...," Skitz began as he muttered the Lord's Prayer over the comlink. His voice broke the silence of space, full of sorrow, fear, and despair. It seemed as if everything around Riptos was in a competition to tug at his heartstrings, and he struggled to maintain his composure.

Riptos gave chase as an Earth fighter flew past him. He fired a burst at the ship, but it was too far away to hit. He hit his afterburners, using his fighter's superior acceleration to gain ground against his foe. He fired again, one of his shots clipping the one of the enemy fighter's wings and causing it to tumble sideways. As he lined up to deliver the killing blow, his radar indicated another fighter dropping behind him.

_Goddamnit,_ Riptos thought as he turned to face his new opponent. The first fighter had lured him into an ambush! He fired wildly, desperately trying to hit the new enemy, but the Earther had outmaneuvered him. His ship suddenly shuddered violently and he heard an explosion so loud his ears rang. various status monitors flashed red, indicating damage throughout his fighter. Shit. He tried to turn to track his assailant, but the damaged control system was too slow to respond. He screamed and slammed his fist against the canopy in frustration. The ship that had attacked him just sat in front of his, as if to gloat. Riptos pressed the fire trigger but his weapons had been disabled. He stared into the Earth pilot's eyes, seeing amusement masking a burning hatred. He reached for the ejection lever just as the Earther opened fire.

Riptos' eyes snapped open and he gasped as he regained consciousness. He could feel his bunk beneath him and make out the outline of the bunk above him in the dim light. He was in his own room, alive and safe. The battle of Mobius was still yet to come. He sat up, moving his limbs to assure himself that he was not hurt. His ears perked up as he heard Rex stirring above him.

"Riptos?" Rex said as he looked over the rails of his bunk, the light from the dim night-light strips along the top edges of the walls causing a gleam in his eyes, the only highlights in his dim gray outline. "Are you okay? I heard you mumbling in your sleep."

"I'm all right. I just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep." Riptos lay back in bed and closed his eyes, wrapping the covers tighter around him. He winced as the bruises on his arm brushed against the fabric. The area will still tender to the touch, and was now greenish rather than black and blue. He waited for sleep to overtake him again, wondering how long it would be before his nightmare came true.

--

"Gentlemen," said Kryche as he addressed the assembled admirals and generals who with him headed the Mobian war effort. "I have changed the plans regarding what to do if the Earthers take this system. Instead of surrendering, I plan to throw the rest of our forces at the Earthers in one massive last stand to try to inflict unacceptable casualties upon the Earth forces. We currently have about half our original fleet strength still operational. If we use all of it at once instead of only part of it, we may be able to drive them away."

"With all due respect, Lord Admiral, your plan is madness," said General Alois Hawthorne, a grizzled, portly cat who wheezed loudly with each puff of his cigar. "Any kind of attack that would produce so-called unacceptable casualties to the Earth fleet would be absolutely catastrophic to us, if it were even possible to turn them back in such a manner. I personally think they would gladly take the opportunity to wipe us out to the last man. The Earthers have offered us the opportunity for a bloodless surrender and I think we damn well should take it."

You would throw away the efforts of the brave men and women who have given their lives for an independent Mobius that easily, eh, General?" said Admiral Joseph Wayland. The tall old hedgehog stood up and swept his gaze over the room. "Thousands of people in generations before us died to give us our own planets and our own star systems, and you would gladly live under the oppression of the Earthers again."

"I would gladly surrender to avoid the destruction of our people, Admiral. In those days, we were pets, mere chattels of the humans. They have amended their laws and consitution. We will never suffer such oppression again, even under Earth rule."

"Fah! They only gave Mobians living on Earth rights because of our independence, our strength. Once they capture Mobius, we will once again be treated like mere animals. Do you have no spine, General?"

"And I would ask you if you have any compassion for the people who would die if--"

"Enough!" shouted Kryche. "My decision is final. We will make our last stand at Mobius. Gentlemen, you are dismissed."

Kryche lit a cigarette as he watched the other officers leave the room. He was up to a pack and a half a day now. He hadn't told Bookshire. The raccoon had enough troubles without Kryche throwing another one in his lap. And the way war was going, the risk of emphysema from smoking was the least of his worries.

--

Max put down the glass he was cleaning and looked up as Adrian walked into the bar. "Hey, kiddo," he said. "I don't normally see you around this late. Is there something wrong?"

"I couldn't sleep," said Adrian as he sat down on one of the stools.

"Welcome to the club," said Max. "I haven't been able to sleep much either. What can I do for you?"

"I don't feel like drinking right now. I just came here to talk, really."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Rex was talking to me about some stuff, about going into the military through the officer training corps and how it would be better than what I've been doing now and get me a college education. On the one hand, it sounds awfully attractive, but on the other hand, I don't know if I'm ready. The military frightens me, even non-combat jobs." Adrian scratched the back of his head and sighed.

Max leaned over the counter and patted him on the back. "It's a big decision, I know, and the military isn't exactly summer camp. I think you should think it through carefully before deciding what to do. I'd never join up, but that's just me. You need to figure out what you want."

"It's so hard, though. And I'll have to sell a lot of my stuff because I won't be able to afford it on a military salary."

"Well, you have to decide what's important. You've been miserable these past few years mostly because of your work, right?"

"Yes."

"And you picked these awful jobs so you could afford all these material things, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're going to have to decide whether those things are worth it. No one can live your life but you."

"Jeez, Max, you sound like my dad."

"Well, your father's probably right then. You're a young man, and you're in a point in your life where you have to decide where you want to take your life. Don't try to get away from it, because it will just come back. And you'd be much better off deciding now than at thirty."

Adrian sighed through his nostrils. "I feel so overwhelmed."

"Many people are in their youth. People can help you, but ultimately it's your responsibility to get your life sorted out. You aren't going to be young forever, kid. I sure as hell wasn't."

Adrian put his elbows on the counter and looked over at the windows. Mobius was outside the window, in darkness except for the lights of cities. The night was almost metaphorical, a symbol of the night that had fallen upon the Mobian Federation. Adrian wondered if there would ever be a dawn.

--

Fiz had hardly believed her eyes after she analyzed the documents taken from the base her team had raided. The entire war was a setup. This Black Fist organization had orchestrated the whole thing to expand their own influence. By stirring up hostility and aggression within the Earth government, they could put their own hawkish politicians in positions of power. The fighters that had attacked various outposts shortly before the war were stolen craft refitted with AI brains instead of pilots. It was a classic case of playing both sides against the middle. And no one had noticed until now.

Now an Earth emissary stood before them, reading the documents with a similar sense of disbelief. Her team had arranged in secret to meet up with him a few days after the raid. With this meeting she hoped to bring an end to the war that had cost Mobius so much. Abbadon stood beside her, fidgeting nervously with his mechanical arm. The air seemed to be electric with tension and excitement.

The human put the papers down and looked at Fiz. "All right, I will report this information to Earth command," he said. "But I must warn you that things might not happen all that quickly, or even at all. The hawks have become deeply entrenched in all levels of political and military authority, and I will face strong opposition. I can only hope this information is acted upon before your people must face yet more suffering and death. I'm afraid I will not be able to keep in touch with you after I leave here."

"Then I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Yakovlev," said Fiz. "I hope you succeed before it is too late for us. Our time is running out."

"In these dark times, hope is all we have left. I must leave now. May peace reign between our peoples." The human stood up.

"Goodbye and godspeed, Mr. Yakovlev," said Fiz. After the human left the room, Abbadon turned to her.

"What do we do now?" said Abbadon.

"Simple, really," said Fiz. "We wait."


	15. Zero Hour Part I

**Chapter Fourteen: Zero Hour Part I**

_"Now here i  
My fairy tale  
Of dying flowers_

_Of the earth  
And those it covers  
Of dying maids  
And Viking men  
Of birds that never  
Or ever are the same again"_

--Arcturus - Fall Of Man

**2:00:00**

Admiral Townswell stood on the bridge of the _Arizona_, watching the huge procession of ships taking their positions for the final attack on Mobius. In two hours, the _Arizona_ and more than 1,500 other ships would make a jump to Mobius orbit and put an end to the war. For the past week the Mobians had become more and more desperate, sometimes resorting to cowardly tactics like rigging a space station with explosives, "surrendering" it, and then detonating the explosives when Earth troops boarded the station. After three hundred years, the Mobians apparently had not forgotten their bestial roots.

Forward scouts had determined that the Mobians were also massing their ships to protect Mobius from attack. This time, Townswell wasn't going to try to slowly dig the Mobians out. This time it would be a full frontal assault, designed to crush the Mobian morale as well as their fleet strength. The Earth public wanted a swift and decisive victory, and Townswell would give it to them.

--

"Well, Rex," said Bookshire. "It looks like you're well enough to fly again." He quickly wrote something on a clipboard. "If you have any problems, come see me."

"Sure," said Rex as he buttoned his shirt.

"Take care of yourself out there, OK?" said Bookshire as he patted Rex on the back.

"Of course. Well, I better report to Riptos so I can go on duty again. Bye."

"Goodbye, and good luck."

"Thanks." Rex walked out of Bookshire's office and saw Riptos waiting just outside the door.

"Hey, Rex," said Riptos. "Did Bookshire approve you going back to work?"

"Yeah. How have those bruises of yours been healing?"

"Well, they don't hurt much anymore. They're this ugly green color right now. They'll probably be gone in a few days. We're going to be going on patrol soon. You have 30 minutes to get ready before you have to report to the briefing room."

"All right. Are you also going to our quarters?"

"No, I have to talk with the station commander. You go on ahead. I'll meet you in the briefing room."

"Okay then. Seeya," said Rex as he walked down the hall back to his quarters. A mere half-hour to transition from the idleness of a week of sick days to going back to work. Rex wondered if it was really enough time to get his game face on. But that was what he was given, so he would have to make do.

**1:40:00**

Adrian dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes and fumbling for the light switch. The wall clock read 9:30 AM. He felt vaguely disgusted with himself for sleeping in so late. For the last few years he had drifted through life, his only direction being the direction where money lay. This had led him to cycles of ceaseless back-breaking labor followed by complete sloth, two bad ways to live one's life rolled up into one. He thought back to one of his conversations with Rex, where the red hedgehog had said, "You need to find somewhere to go and something to do, because you're not going anywhere and not doing much." How true that statement was. But the obvious reply to it that surfaced in Adrian's mind was, "What?" If he could find somewhere to go and something to do, he wouldn't be adrift in the first place. Something else Rex said then came to him: "Self-pity is the most destructive of all emotions."

"Get out of my head, Rex," Adrian mumbled as he shambled over to the en-suite bathroom and splashed water from the tap against his face. He desperately wished for someone to talk to about his problems. Rex's week off was over. His parents were in a part of the galaxy that was at war with his own. Max had absolutely no ambition and was content with serving drinks to people for the rest of his life, capable of giving Adrian empty sympathy but not helping him to get out of his plight. Nadia had just abandoned him. He never had a need to be surrounded by a large circle of friends and often enjoyed solitude, but he hated being completely isolated like this.

He sighed as he took off his clothes and walked over to the shower. He always found a hot shower or bath good for lifting his spirits. But it would only be a temporary thing to hide the true problem--that he had been wasting his life for several years now. As the hot water ran over him, he hoped or a way out of the self-destructive rut he had fallen into.

**1:15:00**

Rex followed Riptos in his fighter down the taxi routes in the bowels of Orbital Station 12, approaching the launch bay. Massive floodlights were embedded in the ceiling, creating huge stripes of light and shadow in the long, cold metal tunnels. The mask that covered his face sent dry, sterile air into his lungs from the fighter's life-support systems--the taxiways and launch bays were not pressurized and thus just as hostile as space itself. As he neared the end of the taxiway, he came to a set of massive doors that led into the launch bay. The doors opened automatically, revealing the panorama of space outside the bay.

The station commander's voice crackled over the commlink. "17th Green Dragons, launch." Rex punched the throttles, sending his ship barrelling out of the launch bay, following Riptos's lead.

"It's good to have you back, Rex," said Skitz.

"Yeah," said Pinky. "We all missed you, even Deathwish, although he's too much of a dick to admit it."

"I would like to hear what he would have to say if he heard you saying that," said Riptos.

"You would," muttered Pinky.

Rex chuckled a bit as Pinky was put in his place. Deathwish and Pinky were like two manifestations at the same being, diametrically opposed yet sharing so much in common. They both got banned from Orbital Station 12 bar for essentially the same shenanigans, only performed on different genders. Listening to them bicker was almost an excercise in irony.

"You okay, Rex?" said Skitz. "You've hardly said anything this morning."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't been in a talkative mood lately." Rex looked out at Mobius, the planet he had beheld from space in innumerable other sorties. But this time, he couldn't help but see its cities in flames in his mind's eye. 61 Virginis was the only system left in Mobian hands and Mobius its sole stronghold. The twilight of the Mobian Federation was near and inevitable. Rex hoped that he would survive it.

**1:10:00**

Nikolai Yakovlev pulled up to the Earth Capitol, his briefcase containing the documents Fizetta Inverno's team had retrieved from the Black Fist base. Today he would argue his case before the Earth legislature--a case that the war should end immediately. It would not be an easy task. The people of Earth had embraced war wholeheartedly and the Earth media had demonized the Mobians, trumping up the case for war relentlessly. The legislators had viewed war as a convenient way to extend their own power and would not give up that power easily.

He straightened his suit jacket as he climbed out of his car, slamming the door behind him. A guard followed behind him, as Nikolai feared he might be a target of an assassination attempt. Violating the well-entrenched Earth government groupthink often had terrible consequences for the violators.

"Good morning, sir," a man said as Nikolai entered the building, "The legislature is already waiting for you."

"Excellent," said Nikolai. "Let us get to work, shall we?"

"Of course." The two of them headed down the hall, unaware of the gleam in the "bodyguard"'s eye as he followed.

**0:55:00**

Adrian thumbed through a technology magazine as he lay on the couch in his quarters, his bare feet wedged under the couch cushions. He was bored. He was always bored. There was hardly anything to do on Orbital Station 12 except drink, and he couldn't hold his liquor very well and didn't want to become an alcoholic, so that would only entertain him for brief periods. Normally he would have his little electronic pet projects, his home theater system, or his girlfriend snuggled up with him on the couch to help him pass the time. But now he was trapped far away from home and his girlfriend had left him.

With a sigh, he put the magazine aside, and pulled out the directory services book in the end table drawer. He had to find something to do--he just couldn't take it anymore. A smile came across his face as he came to the listing for the spa. The hot pools would probably be closed due to water rationing, but the rest of it was probably still open. _Well, now I've found something to do_, he thought as he closed the booklet and stood up.

**0:45:00**

Max looked up as a tall badger came over to him. "Good morning, sir," he said as he put down the glass he was cleaning. "What can I do for you today?"

"Do you have any Michelob?" said the badger. "Or have you run out of Earth beer?"

"In fact, I do have some on hand. Just because there's an official trade embargo with Earth doesn't mean I can't get drinks from there...unofficially. It will cost you though."

"Whatever. I've got money."

"Fifty credits. In advance."

"All right." The badger handed him a 50-credit note.

Max poured the man a mug of beer and handed it and the bottle to him. The badger took a sip of the beer. "Good stuff," he said.

"Of course it is," Max said with a grin. "I'd never screw a customer."

"You got quite the sense of humor there, chum."

"It helps smooth business relations."

As the badger laughed and took a big slug of the beer, Max turned towards a new customer who had come over. The bar had only been open for an hour and a half and over a hundred customers had showed up already. The people on Orbital Station 12 seemed to have gotten over their fears of being bombed into oblivion recently.

Soon they would all know just how justified those fears had been.

**0:40:00**

"Admiral on deck!" the communications officer shouted as Kryche entered the room. The bridge crew automatically stood up and saluted.

"As you were," said Kryche as he strode over to his command chair.

"Admiral, sir," said the sensor officer. "We've received the latest reports from the scouts in Vega."

"Oh?" said Kryche. He steepled his fingers together as he waited for the news.

"The Earth fleet is massing near the jump point to 61 Virginis. They're going to attack Mobius; we can be sure of that. I don't think we've ever seen that many ships before."

"How many?"

The sensor officer whistled. "One thousand five hundred. Maybe more."

"Sweet Jesus." Kryche rubbed his brow as he turned the number over in his head. 1,500 ships was enough to devastate a planet in mere minutes, and more than enough to tear through his fleet like an axe through paper. There was no way around it--his fleet was well and truly fucked.

"Call a level 2 alert for the entire fleet. Have civilian stations on standby, and order them to raise shields and deploy all available weapons and fighters." A level 2 alert was the second highest alert available. Only the level 1 alert, which was reserved for active combat, was more serious.

"Aye, sir. Initiating level 2 alert status."

"And one more thing, Lieutenant," said Kryche to the young sensor officer.

"What's that?"

"Do you believe in God?"

**0:39:15**

The amber-colored indicator for a level 2 alert flashed in Riptos' visor. The black and yellow hedgehog felt a twisting feeling in his gut. A level 2 alert was always very serious, not something that was called up routinely. Riptos knew something big was about to go down.

"All right, men," he said. "You see that alert. Power up weapons and set them on standby. We may need them." A chorus of affirmatives rang in his headset.

"So what do you think the alert is for, Riptos?" said Pinky.

"I think we're about to get some unwelcome visitors in this system. Now hold your tongue. Admiral Akwarus is on the line."

"Attention all personnel," said Kryche over the link. "Forward scouts have detected a large amassing of Earth forces around the jump point leading into this system. Accordingly, I have called a level 2 alert for all Mobian forces. All units commence combat readiness procedures. Installations and capital ships are ordered to deploy any available fighters. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. We have reason to believe an attack on our homeworld is imminent."

Riptos' heart skipped a beat. His palms started to sweat. This time, it was no dream. The battle of his life was likely to start very soon, for real. He tried to focus his mind. Now was not the time to lose himself in the fear and excitement of imminent battle.

Rex's voice broke the tense, almost electric silence. "Damn," he muttered. "God damn."

"It's official," said Pinky. "We're fucked."

"Maybe we are," said Riptos. "But we're going to fight anyway. Those people down there depend on us, and we're going to deliver."

"I never got the chance to call my family today," said Lieutenant Serge Hacking, a new member of the Green Dragons who had been assigned to them as a replacement for casualties.

"There are many things we forget to do until it's too late, kid," said Skitz. "Just hang in there. Maybe you will see them again."

"I hope so," said Serge.

Riptos looked out at the blackness of space, wishing for the company of his own family. He missed them greatly, but he would proudly fight this last battle even if it meant he would never see them again. And heaven was such a cop-out.

**0:30:00**

Admiral Townswell walked over to the dirty Mobian curled up in a fetal ball in a brig cell with a bandage around his head. The young fox was a Mobian scout pilot who had been shot down while scanning the Earth fleet. He was wearing the torn remains of his flight suit, which had been ruined by falling debris in the cockpit. His face was frozen in fear, his eyes wide and staring. "Please don't hurt me," he muttered over and over. "Please don't hurt me."

"I couldn't do that if I wanted to," said Admiral Townswell mock-sweetly. "Interstellar prisoner of war protocols and all. Protocols that, for the record, your government does not observe."

The terrified fox said nothing, his eyes darting between her and the two security officers flanking her.

"What do you want with me?"

"Mostly just to keep you from running back to Mobius and giving us more grief. But we would like to ask you a few questions. First of all, who are you?"

The fox's identity was the only information he was compelled to supply under the prisoner treaties. "Michael Graves, lieutenant junior grade, service number 49ZK-5696-XLRW-AA23," he muttered in a monotone.

"Well, Lieutenant Graves, we're going to be paying Mobius a visit in a little while. Would you like to tell us what to expect when we get there? If you answer all of our questions we will give you special priveleges, the first among them being letting you out of your cell."

"I'm not saying any more."

"Very well then. Suit yourself. Your loyalty to your people is commendable if you want to stay down here where it's so cold and dark. I'll be seeing you again in a few hours."

Admiral Townswell turned to leave, motioning to one of the guards as she did so. "Get him fed, bathed, and clothed in something other than those rags that used to be his uniform."

"Yes, ma'am," said the guard, saluting her as she walked out. Now only thirty minutes remained until the Earth fleet would attack Mobius. It would be a day long remembered by both Mobians and humans. She was sure of it.

**0:20:00**

Nikolai Yakovlev tapped his foot impatiently as the security officer scanned his ID card. There were still five more checkpoints to go until he reached the senatorial chamber. Could this possibly take any longer?

"All right, Mr. Yakovlev, I've verified your ID card," the attendant said handing the card back to him.

"Thank you." He stuck it in his wallet.

"Right this way, sir," said another attendant, leading him to the next checkpoint. Strict security protocols were always in force in the Earth capitol. "At this rate," he muttered to himself, "there might not be a Mobian Federation to call for a peace treaty with."

**0:15:00**

Kryche watched ships assuming defensive formations in the bridge monitors. Ever since he had called the alert, Mobius had been preparing for battle, marshalling all available ships, even police cutters, to aid in the defense, and bringing all defensive systems online.

He swiveled his chair around as the door to the bridge opened. revealing Captain Anthony Drake. Captain Drake reporting on force readiness, sir," he said as he saluted Kryche.

"What of it?"

"Available spaceborne units are 80 percent deployed. We have ground units operating in force in most major cities. Ground-to-orbit cannons are fully operational. Missile satellites are not fully ready yet, but we're working on that."

"Good," said Kryche. "Do you think we are ready for an attack?"

"Just about. We'll probably have everything ready in twenty minutes, maybe less."

"Excellent. Keep monitoring force readiness, and evacuate all civilians to designated shelter areas."

"Yes, sir. Right away." Captain Drake saluted and left the room.

"What do you think are our chances, sir?" said Lieutenant Commander Ana Donahue, the communications officer.

"Somewhere between slim and none," said Kryche. "And I think slim is on its way out the door."

**0:13:30**

Adrian purred as the masseuse's hands swept over his lower back. He felt like he could lie there forever, with the touch of the masseuse sending pleasure coursing through his body and the scent of the oils like olfactory nirvana, soothing and uplifting. This was better than soaking in a hot bath, better than when Bookshire's scatter-brained wolf protege had given him too much morphine and made him as high as a kite, better than anything he had ever experienced before. He clenched his hands against the massage table and inhaled sharply as the masseuse swept a finger down his tail, moving her hand in such a way to make it seem like an accident.

"Oops," she said in a blatantly fraudulent tone. "Looks like I made a little slip of the hand."

"You're welcome to make that slip again," mumbled Adrian.

The masseuse chuckled and began to run her fingers along Adrian's ribs with one hand while she kneaded the small of his back with the other. "Does that feel ticklish?" she said.

"No, not at all," said Adrian. _I'm going to give her a big tip when this is over_, he thought.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and cold draft chilling his bare flesh. His eyes snapped open and he saw a soldier standing in the doorway.

"What's going on?" said the masseuse. "Is there a problem?"

"In response to suspicion of an imminent attack against this station, we are evacuating all civilians to designated shelter areas. I have been sent to guide you and your client to a shelter. Come with me."

"Good lord!" said Adrian. "Now? I'm not wearing any clothes!"

The masseuse quickly grabbed a white bathrobe and handed it to Adrian. "Put this on," she said.

Adrian was unable to avoid exposing himself as he got off the table to put the robe on, the towel falling off of him as he rose. He put the bathrobe on as quickly as possible, also donning the slippers she handed him a few seconds later. He followed her and the soldier out the door, his oil-soaked fur emitting a lavender scent so thick he could cut it with a knife and the air feeling like ice. "I smell like a goddamned flower now," he grumbled.

"There are showers set up in the shelters where you can wash yourself off," said the soldier. Hurry!"

Adrian's pace quickened as he followed the soldier down several hallways and elevators until they came to the station's assembly hall, which was filled with cots and confused, frightened Mobians. He saw an area in the corner with a drain and several hand showers. There were already three people there, and he didn't suspect that it was going to get any less crowded, so he went over anyway. Slipping off his robe, he took one of the hand showers and began to rinse the oil out of his fur. The sudden interruption, the confusion, the cold air and colder water, and the intense embarrassment had turned his ecstasy into misery. When he was as clean as he could get with cold water and no soap, he put his bathrobe back in, and lay down on a cot next to the woman who had been massaging him. "What a way to ruin a wonderful morning," he grumbled. "Lying half-naked and freezing cold in this hellhole. I'm probably going to spend hours in here with thousands of other people, and I don't even have any pants!"

"Oh, come on," said the masseuse, her fingers stroking his ears seductively. "You're kind of cute for such a skinny little guy. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. Probably around ten years younger than you. What would your husband think?"

"I'm not married. The nametag says Miss Stacy Tanner." She rubbed the back of his neck with her fingers.

"We just met, Stacy. I don't think you and I are on the same page."

"Now don't be so shy. What was your first name again? Aaron?"

"Adrian." Part of him resented her advances, but another part of him began to stir, bringing with it desire. Desire for her. He involuntarily licked his lips.

"I see that look on your face," Adrian, she said, sliding her fingers under the neckline of his bathrobe to stroke the smooth skin of his chest, almost as supple to the touch as his soft, rusty fur. "Why don't you come to my quarters when this is all over?" she whispered, her voice dripping with lust.

"Yes," Adrian said without thinking, as if an outside force was twisting his thoughts and words. _I'm probably going to regret this_, he thought. _Or not_. "Now could you take your hand out of my robe before people start to stare at us?"

"All right. There's always later, after all." She withdrew her hand, lightly caressing Adrian's face as she did so. The young man could not help but smile. He had a weak spot for women that liked to take the lead and be the one in charge. Maybe it was his relatively passive and shy personality. Maybe he just liked to be nurtured. Perhaps because his adoptive parents liked to stroke him, hold him, and cuddle him well into his teen years--and beyond. He knew there was no way a workable relationship could come out of this. But he would enjoy it for the moment.

**0:10:00**

"This is the Arizona to all units," said Admiral Townswell over the comlink. "Commence final launch preparations. Launch in T-minus ten minutes and counting." She could almost smell victory ahead as she waited for the timer to run down. It would be a glorious day for the Earth Republic and for humans everywhere. Were it up to her, she would make the Mobians return to human homes as pets like they were made to be, but the Earth government was feeling more charitable than that. There would be no more Mobians lying in human laps with collars around their necks. The flea-ridden little bastards had proven formidable enough to grant them that.

She turned to Captain Derek Ndele. "Is everything ready on the Arizona?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am. If he didn't have to wait for the rest of the fleet, we could launch at this moment."

"It is so satisfying to witness everything going right, is it not?"

"Indeed," said Captain Ndele. "Victory will be ours by the end of this day."

**0:08:00**

Rex watched as lights began to turn on in the missile satellite a few kilometers from his ship. The Mobian Federation was marshalling anything and everything with weapons. It was the largest amassing of men and equipment for one battle in the history of Mobius. This was the last line, the only one left for Mobius to defend.

And damned if he would let the Earthers cross it.

**0:07:30**

Nikolai returned the guards' salutes as he walked briskly into the legislature hall. The security checks had taken almost half an hour, and he was finally in. A man guided him to his seat where he would wait for his turn to speak. He rehearsed his speech over and over in his head, thinking about vocal inflection, word use, and every conceivable aspect. He wanted it to be perfect. The question was whether perfect would be enough.

**0:05:00**

Kryche lit a cigarette as he waited for further news on mobilization progress. He hated waiting. The worst part of war was when you knew you were about to be attacked, and could do nothing but wait for them to make their move. The Mobian navy was in no shape to take the initiative against the Earthers. The outcome of the battle seemed like a foregone conclusion, but he would fight as hard as he could anyway. If he fought, he would likely die. If he surrendered, the Earthers would probably find some reason to kill him anyway. It was a lose-lose proposition. If he was going to die, he was going to die like a man.

**0:03:00**

"I have come here," said Nikolai as he looked out towards the assembled legislators, "with evidence that the Mobian Federation bears no responsibility whatsoever for the war with them in which we are now engaged, and that the reasonable and prudent course of action is to immediately cease hostilities with the Mobian Federation."

The chatter within the legislature chamber was immediately silenced.

"I was assigned to carry out a clandestine diplomatic operation with an agent of the Mobian Federation. What I found out during that mission makes it clear that a third party is the true aggressor in this war, and that we have all been deceived."

Nikolai exhaled audibly after that statement. Now that he had made his big statement, he would have to explain and justify it to the legislators. And they likely would need a lot of persuading.

**00:02:30**

Adrian took a bite out of the ration kit that he had been given by the soldiers running the shelters. The food was tough and the flavor barely palatable, but it was all there was to eat. It was some sort of salad, but it had a rubbery, unnatural consistency. He decided he would ask Rex later if this would be what he would have to eat if he joined the officer training corps. It was even worse than the medicated, strage-tasting food that hospitals served their patients.

The soldiers had also brought him a change of clothes, although they were sized for someone much bulkier than Adrian. The shirt hung loosely around his belly, the pants were almost falling off, and the hole for his tail was too large. But as with the food, he had no choice. After finishing the bizarre mutant salad, he lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling. Stacy reached over and rubbed between his ears, elicting a quiet purr. "Thanks for keeping me company," said Adrian.

"You're welcome," Stacy said, scratching under his chin.

"Why are you so interested in me anyway?"

"You look so lonely. I feel like I can help you, make you happier."

"That's an admirable sentiment. A friend of mine named Rex said about the same when he met me. He's pretty much my only friend."

"Is he a good friend?"

"Yes. I could trust him with my life."

"Make more such friends. You need them dearly."

"Maybe you're right." He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "When I get back to Mobius. If I get back to Mobius."

**00:01:30**

Bookshire looked around the nearly deserted casualty ward, unable to avoid imagining dead and dying Mobian pilots lying in the beds. His staff had begun moving every patient out of the infirmary who could be moved, as the place would soon be overflowing with military casualties. He turned around as Dexter Sekaro, his adopted son and student, entered the room. "Ah, Dexy, how are things going?" said Bookshire. His voice was friendly, but the expression on his face was grave and vaguely sorrowful.

"Well, we've managed to transfer about half of the patients out of the infirmary," said Dexter. "The others weren't healthy enough to move. I still don't think there will be enough room."

"Every little bit helps," said Bookshire, resting a hand on Dexter's shoulder. "This is probably going to be the hardest day of your life, Dexter. I hope you're ready."

"As ready as I'm ever going to be. I'm more worried about the possibility of it being the last day of our lives."

"There's the chance of that, too," said Bookshire. "But it's best not to think about that."

"It's hard not to."

"I know. But when things actually start happening, you'll be too focused on work to think about such things."

"Hardest day of my life, huh? Things are already so hard already. I can barely keep my head straight."

"I understand. I was once a student myself. I remember, over twenty years ago, spending nights helping Riptos with his college homework after I had finished mine. I remember how scrawny he used to be."

"Riptos? Scrawny? You're kidding me. He looks like he stepped out of an exercise machine advertisement. The guy could break my neck without even working up a sweat if he wanted."

"Oh, I'm serious. Riptos Calavera, posting the slowest time on the six-kilometer run, living on pizza and fries and just about everything I would tell him not to eat, and just barely passing his physicals. He's come a long way from there. After I pressured him into taking up a sport to build his fitness up he tried swimming and fell in love with it. The only person I've met whose a better swimmer than he is is his own son. One thing about him has never changed, though."

"What's that?"

"He still can't bear people bringing up the fact that he's short."

Dexter laughed. "Well, he has to be, to fit in one of a fighter cockpit. They'd never get me into one of those flying coffins."

Bookshire's voice became a bit grimmer. "I think that for many pilots today, your assessment of Mobian fighters will be correct."

**0:00:30**

"All units initiate final launch procedures. Launch in T-minus 30 seconds and counting," Admiral Townswell spoke into the comlink. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds away from the final attack on Mobius. Victory was so tantalizingly close.

"T-minus 20 seconds." Her voice was flat, but her mind raced with excitement at the prospect of crushing the Mobian Federation at last. This day would be a glorious day, to be written down in the pages of history for all time.

"T-minus 15 seconds. Stand by for launch." The seconds felt like miniature eternities as anticipation stretched her perception of time. The wait was such sweet suffering.

"T-minus ten seconds." Almost there.

"Nine. Eight. Seven." Her fist clenched, as if to crush that mongrel Akwarus's throat.

"Six. Five. Four." She smiled grimly as she felt the hyperdrive send faint tremors through the floor as it powered up.

"Three. Two. One." The moment she had been waiting on for so long was upon her.

"Launch," she said at last.


	16. Zero Hour Part II

**Chapter Fifteen: Zero Hour Part II**

_"Along the black mountainside scattered  
By the campfires awaiting the dawn  
Two times a hundred men in battles  
Tried by the steel in the arrow, axe, and the sword_

By battle worn hunger torn awaitening  
For the sun to break through the cold haze  
And for the banners of Ebal to appear  
On the hill in the sun's first warm rays

The elder among the men looked deep into  
The fire and spoke loud with pride,  
"Tomorrow is a fine day to die!"

Now the morning advances from far east  
Now the sun breaks through dust clouds and haze  
Now a forest of spears appears on the hill  
And the steel shines bright in the sun's first rays"  
--Bathory - A Fine Day to Die

"We're reading a massive enemy force in hyperspace, ETA 120 seconds!" Captain Drake's voice boomed on the bridge. Kryche instantly looked up.

"Call a red alert," said Kryche. "How are those missile sats coming?"

"Missile satellites are 85 operational. They should be ready to fire in six minutes."

"We don't have six minutes, goddamnit! We need heavy fire support now!"

"I'm sorry, Admiral, we're working as fast as we ca--"

"Here they come!" shrieked the sensor officer. "Reading over eleven hundred large sensor contacts plus over ten thousand fighters!"

The viewscreens displayed a swarm of Earth warships, spreading out like a cloud of locusts. The final act of the war had begun.

"All units, fire at will!" Kryche barked. "I repeat, fire!"

--

Riptos looked on in awe and horror as the darkness of space was lit up by countless spears of yellow and blue, incandescent particle beams seeking purchase in shields and hulls. The Earthers were advancing slowly, bearing down on the Mobian fleet as they closed in.

"Break and attack!" Riptos shouted. "Rex, you're with me!"

"Yes, sir!" said Rex as he followed Riptos into the maelstrom.

"All right boys, be careful out there, and hopefully we will all survive."

"Survive," said Pinky. "That was my intention as well. Survive, heheh. Oh, God."

Riptos paid no heed to Pinky as he quickly locked on to an Earth fighter. He chased it as it flew towards one of the Earth warships. "Damnit," Riptos muttered as he pulled away. If he got too close to an enemy capital ship the particle guns and missile batteries would pulverize him.

"This is a massacre, Admiral," said the captain of the Mobian cruiser _Cephiros_ over the general comm channel. "There's no way we can survive out here. We must surrender before we are annihilated."

"There will be no surrender," said Kryche. "Engage the enemy forces. You have your orders."

"Take evasive action, Rex!" Riptos said as he noticed the Earth fighter behind Rex's ship on the sensor array.

"I can shake him!" Rex reversed the throttle on his engines, dropped behind the enemy fighter, and quickly destroyed it.

Riptos ears perked up as a message came from Orbital Station 12 control. "We have a squadron of torpedo bombers inbound! Intercept them before they launch warheads!"

"I copy, sir," said Riptos. "Moving to engage."

Riptos swerved to meet the incoming bombers, Rex following closely behind. Riptos had much less to fear from the bombers than from their fighter escorts. Bombers were easy targets.

"We'll hold off the fighters, just take those things out!" said Commander Brun of the 23rd Scythes.

Riptos opened up on the first bomber, shredding it with his particle guns, and then turned towards the second, which had just launched torpedoes. Riptos easily shot down the torpedoes, taking the bomber with it. Rex, Skitz, and Deathwish had already picked targets among the bombers, like lions picking out wildebeest.

As the last of the bombers were dispatched, Riptos flew out into the thick of the battle once more, the chaos surrounding him like water around a swimmer.

--

Adrian lay on his cot, clutching the edges and trembling with fear as the battle raged outside. "We're all going to die!" he shrieked as the walls vibrated from the nearby explosion of a ship.

Stacy put a hand between his shoulder blades. "Calm down, Adrian," she said, "We'll be all right."

"Of course we won't!" said Adrian. "There's no way the Mobian fleet can take them all!"

"Just relax," said Stacy as she rubbed Adrian's neck.

"Relax," muttered Adrian. "How could I possibly relax in a time like this? Are you nuts?"

She stroked the back of his head. "Just keep telling yourself it's going to be all right."

"Of course it's not! There's a battle going on right outside! There are torpedo bombers closing in right now!" Adrian was on the verge of tears.

Adrian looked up and saw that Stacy was now talking to a young wolf in a lab coat. The young doctor nodded and walked over to him. As he came closer he recognized him as Dexter Sekaro, who he had first met while being rehabilitated after arriving on the station.

"Well, Adrian, I see you're as temperamental as ever," said Dexter as he knelt beside the young hedgehog and scratched him behind the ears.

"Oh no, not you again," Adrian muttered. He still remembered when Dexter gave him the wrong medication and left him stoned out of his mind for hours. He watched Dexter pull a syringe and a vial out of his coat pocket. "Going to screw up the medication again?"

"Oh, come on, I don't do that very often anymore." Dexter sighed. He didn't expect anyone in Adrian's mental state to react well to the prospect of being injected full of sedatives. Adrian looked away as Dexter swabbed his arm with alcohol and made the injection. "There," said Dexter. "You should be off to sleep in a few minutes."

"And dead in another half hour. Whatever." Adrian felt the sedative take hold within seconds. His eyelids became heavy, his breathing slowed, and his mind began to cloud. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.

--

"I come to you now," said Nikolai as he addressed the legislature, "with information that shows conclusively that the Mobian Federation was not responsible for the attack on our outpost, and that we ought to immediately cease all hostilities with them."

The commotion in the legislature chamber died immediately. Nikolai continued. "I have evidence in my possession that shows that the blame for this war rests on an illegal organization operating within our space."

_Well, the balloon has gone up_, thought Nikolai to himself. _Now it's time to defend it._

--

"Additional threats now on radar!" shouted Skitz over the comm. "The motherfuckers are everywhere!"

Riptos hit his burners as he broke formation to intercept the incoming bombers. As Rex swerved left to distract the escorting fighters, Riptos shot down a torpedo launched by one of the bombers, and then tore up the bomber itself. He glanced at Rex's ship to see him being tailed by two Earth fighters. He was leading the Earthers into the firing arc of one of the station's turrets, and the turret promptly blew away both enemy fighters. Riptos turned his attention back to the enemy bombers, shredding one of them with his guns and taking another out with a missile. The remaining two fled, their afterburners flaring as they raced back to their mothership.

"Help me out, boss!" yelled Skitz as he whizzed by Riptos, an Earth fighter on his tail. As Riptos gave chase, the hostile fighter opened up, hitting Skitz twice. Skitz's ship shuddered, it's engines flickering as it began to lose power.

"Skitz!" Riptos yelled. "Return to base! Your ship's about to blow!"

"You don't have to tell me twice," said Skitz as his ship dashed back towards the hangar bay of Orbital Station 12. The enemy fighter broke pursuit and headed home, rolling to the left and right as if goading Riptos to follow. Riptos resisted the temptation to pursue the ship right into the range of a capital ship's guns.

Riptos resumed guard formation as the last of the Earth fighters were routed. As he turned back towards the station, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a Mobian cruiser being sliced in half by a particle beam from an Earth battleship. He wondered how many officers and crew had been killed. Too many. And it was happening too many times.

--

"Missile satellites are fully operational," said Captain Drake. "They're firing."

Hundreds of satellites around Mobius began to open fire, sending torrents of missiles at the Earth warships. Their nuclear warheads smashed into Earth hulls and shields, instantly crippling over twenty Earth ships. But this turnaround was short lived, as the Earth fleet began to quickly annihilate the satellites.

"Goddamnit," said Kryche. "Just as we get the Godforsaken things working, the Earthers blow them up."

Just as Kryche finished that sentence, a siren blared on the bridge, almost causing him to jump out of his skin.

"Warheads incoming!" shouted the sensor officer.

"Fire point defense batteries!" shouted Keyche. "Take those things down!"

"Aye, sir! Firing!" said the weapons officer.

Seconds later, the _Independence_ shook violently as the first torpedoes hit. Kryche held on to the armrests of his chair with an iron grip to avoid falling out of it. Bombers now swarmed his ship, overwhelming the fighters and gun turrets.

"Shields down to 74 and falling!"

"Redirecting power to port shields! Good God, they're everyhwere!"

"Shield breach imminent in sector 17!"

Every passing second would yield another shouted warning from some officer on the bridge. Now two Earth cruisers were moving into firing position, lining up for a broadside against the _Independence_'s port side.

The first particle cannon salvo from the enemy cruisers hit with such an impact that Kryche fell forward onto the floor as the Independence shuddered like a man being whipped. As the shaking subsided, Kryche rose to his feet and slumped back into his chair. "Damage report!" he barked.

"We've lost two of our engines and three banks of maneuvering thrusters," said Captain Drake. "We managed to take out one of the enemy cruisers, but they're bringing in more ships. There are hull breaches all across the port side. Casualties in the hundreds. ETA for the enemy regrouping is five minutes."

"Do you think we can survive another encounter?"

"Negative. We can barely maneuver right now, and we've lost most of our port-side particle cannons. We're dead in the water."

"Order all hands to get to the escape pods immediately."

"Aye, sir." Captain Drake gave the order, and as the bridge crew moved to leave the room, the captain noticed Kryche was still standing there. "Admiral, you called this evacuation," he said. "What are you waiting for, sir?"

"Is it not an old tradition that the commanding officer goes down with his ship?" said Kryche, his face grim.

"Admiral, sir, you cannot be serious."

"I am serious. Go. I will stay with this ship."

"But sir, I must protest. An officer of your rank and experience is a great asset to the Mobian navy. You can't just throw yourself away."

"But, sir--"

"Are you defying an order from your admiral, Captain? Go to the escape pods now. I will not say it twice." Kryche glared at him and put his hand over where his pistol was holstered under his tunic.

Captain Drake gulped and looked around briefly. "Aye, sir. As your wish," he said as he turned and left.

Kryche watched through the bridge screens as the Earth ships gathered for their final attack on his ship. Six cruisers and twelve destroyers assembled to make an en masse attack on the _Independence_. He then took over the consoles himself, diverting all available power, even the power allocated for engines and main weapons, to shields so that the escape pods would have more time to leave.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a data crystal. He inserted it into a receptacle in one of the bridge consoles. The crystal contained some of his favorite 20th-century music. I think this will suit the occasion, he thought as he selected a Twisted Sister track and set it to play over the bridge speakers. He watched the Earth ships approach as he muttered along to the lyrics:

_Welcome to the abandoned land  
Come on in, child, take my hand  
Here there's no work or play  
Only one bill to pay  
There's just five words to say, as you go down, down, down:_

**You're gonna burn in hell!**

--

"I'm going to die! I'm going to die!" wailed twenty-year old Junior Lieutenant Isaac Graves as Bookshire inserted an IV into his arm. The young pilot's blood coated the gurney, his left arm torn off halfway between the shoulder and the elbow and his leg crushed and mangled.

"No, you're not going to die," said Bookshire as he stroked the injured rat's forehead. "You must calm down. We're going to get you patched up. There's a sedative in your IV drip that will calm you down and relieve your pain."

"What about my leg?"

"I don't think we can save it. Look, just calm down, we're going to take care of you. We've already called your family to tell them what happened to you."

"How is he?" said Dexter as he walked over to Bookshire.

"He'll live," said Bookshire. "If he doesn't kill himself from his own stress. How many more patients need to be stabilized."

"Four." But we'd better get a move on, they're sending another medical transport over here."

"How is the battle going?"

"Terribly, of course. We've already lost a quarter of our forces. The Independence is surrounded; she's launching escape pods. They say she'll go down any minute now."

"What about Kryche? Is he all right?"

"He...chose not to board an escape pod."

"What?" Bookshire dropped his clipboard as a look of pure and absolute horror appeared on his face. "Oh my God, he's going down with the ship? Dex, get to a comm terminal and try to talk some sense into him. I'll handle the patients in the meantime."  
'  
"They just lost contact with the Independence. It's no use."

Bookshire held his head in his hands as if the entire universe were falling down around him. "Oh, God," he said again.

"I'm sorry."

"There's no time to grieve," said Bookshire as he stood up straight again. "Let's get to the next patient. I should keep myself busy or I'll crack up for sure."

--

Kryche smiled grimly as the last escape pod reached a safe distance from the Independence. Now it was just him and the enemy strike group. Kryche pressed a button on his command chair.

"ENTER COMMAND CODE" flashed on the screen.

"4-niner-alpha-6-india-8-tango-golf-zulu-7," said Kryche.

"COMMAND CODE 49A6I8TGZ7 ACCEPTED. SELECT TIMER DURATION."

"One minute."

"SELF-DESTRUCT IN 1:00.00" flashed and then the timer began to count down.

"I guess I'll meet you bastards on the way down," said Kryche as he leaned back into the seat. "We're gonna burn in hell."

--

Nikolai looked around the room after he finished his testimony. The legislature had grilled him on every aspect of the intelligence data. His part in this was now over. It was now up to the legislature to decide.

"The chamber shall now vote on Mr. Yakovlev's proposition," said the legislature majority leader. "Gentlemen, cast your votes now."

--

Skitz watched helplessly out the window of the infirmary as the _Independence_, the flagship of the Mobian fleet, exploded, the blast taking out the ships that were attacking her. A three-kilometer monster of a warship, bristling with guns and carrying the most advanced technology known to Mobius, was now nothing but superheated wreckage. The cream of the Mobian navy were stationed on that ship, and Skitz could only hope that they survived.

Skitz himself had made it back to base virtually unscathed, but they had insisted on taking him to the infirmary anyway. They stuck him in a bare, funny-smelling hospital room and stripped him to the skin, and for what? Prodding at a couple of bruises. Of course, he would be discharged almost immediately, but it was still ridiculous.

Skitz's ears perked up as the door opened and Dexter came into the room. "Well, Lieutenant Anderson, it looks like you're just fine and there's no reason to keep you here, so you're free to go."

"Exactly what I was saying all along. But you still decided to make me lie naked in a hospital room for half an hour. At least you could have given me the dignity of being able to take my own clothes off."

"Well, there could have been internal injuries that weren't immediately apparent. Why am I the one everyone has to be a jerk to anyway?"

"Because you're a little student kid who thinks he knows better than everyone else," said Skitz as he got dressed. "Dr. Draftwood can get away with it because, first, he actually has some measure of experience and wisdom, and second, he treats people with respect, unlike you."

Dexter just shrugged and left the room, not wanting to carry on arguing. Skitz could hear the wolf grumbling, "what's his problem?" as he left.

"It's not me," Skitz called out as he went out into the hallway. "It's you."

--

"By 644 yeas to 610 nays, the chamber has voted to pass the resolution put forward by Mr. Yakovlev. The war between the Earth Republic and the Mobian Federation is officially ended."

Nikolai breathed a sigh of relief. The margin was razor thin, but the Mobian Federation was saved. Of course, it wasn't time to break out the champagne just yet.

Now they had to tell the Earth forces to stop shooting. Which would mean going through the President's advisors, and then the President, and then Admiral Townswell.

_Bureaucracy, how do I loathe thee?_ thought Nikolai. _Let us count the ways._

--

"Commence final approach sequence. Assume position for orbital bombardment pattern echo-6-x-ray-4," said Admiral Townswell over the comm link. The _Arizona_ rumbled as she moved into position to fire on Mobius's largest city, Liberty Gorge. Despite the decimation of their fleets, the slaughter of their officers and soldiers, and the loss of their flagship and leader of military forces, the Mobians refused to surrender, refused to give up an inch unless they were bled for it. The war had to end now. The only solution was a sudden, drastic, and merciless lesson on what it meant to stand in the way of Earth.

"Open a comm channel to the Mobian fleet," said Admiral Townswell to Captain Ndele.

"Yes, ma'am, initializing connection," said Ndele.

The face of a portly brown mink appeared on the viewscreen. "This is Admiral Tuomas Leinonen, acting commandant of Mobian navy forces. State your intentions, Earther," he said gruffly.

"Since you have been a bit reluctant to accept defeat," said Admiral Townswell. "I have decided to make it clear that we will accept nothing less than total surrender. We are moving ships into firing positions around your planet. You have five minutes to give us your complete surrender. If you do not do so within five minutes, we will fire on and destroy your planet's largest city. You will then be given another five minutes, after which we will destroy your next largest city, and so on. If we end up destroying five cities, we will launch a ground invasion and take your planet by force. Do you understand?"

"I don't believe you," said Admiral Leinonen. "Your posturing will not intimidate me, human. There will be no surrender."

"So you decided to call my bluff. Very well. Five minutes is all you have before we make good on our promise. Admiral Townswell out." She disengaged the comm link and then turned to captain Ndele. "Power up forward particle cannons. Set for maximum focus."

"Yes, ma'am."

--

The transmission from the Earth admiral played over and over in Riptos's head like a scratched record. He felt sick. The Earthers were going to blow up a city of millions of people? Then it struck him. They were targeting Liberty Gorge. His family lived there. Riptos's eyes widened.

"Elena," he mumbled. "This can't happen. It can't."

The sound of Rex talking over the comm snapped Riptos out of his daze. "Riptos! Are you all right? You're just drifting. Are your systems malfunctioning?"

"No, Rex, I was...in shock," said Riptos. "The humans, they're going to fire on the city where my family lives!" He was sure his face conveyed his shock, horror, and fear far more than his words. "Oh my God."

"There's nothing you can do to save them," said Rex, who had started to turn pale. "It's out of our hands. I know how much it hurts, but you're the leader, and we're depending on you."

Riptos nodded, and swung his fighter around just as a new wave of bombers approached Orbital Station 12. _Elena, this is for you_, he thought to himself as he hit his burners.

--

Bookshire tried to purge the thoughts of the Earthers' threat from his mind as he stitched up a gash on the head of another wounded pilot. To fire upon a defenseless city would be the height of barbarism. The wanton murder of civilians was banned by every interstellar treaty in existence. Surely they wouldn't do such a thing. Would they?

"I think that will do for now," said Bookshire as he cut the end of the thread. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm cold," said Lieutenant Alan Mitsui, a gray-brown hedgehog with his spines clipped almost all the way down to the level of his fur.

Bookshire took a second blanket out of the storage cabinet and put it on the shivering young hedgehog. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you, Dr. Draftwood."

"It's no problem. And you can call me Bookshire."

The lieutenant nodded.

"I'll be back to check on you in an hour or so. You should get some rest."

"Bookshire?" said Lieutenant Matsui just as Bookshire turned around.

"Yes?"

"Do you really think the Earthers will do what they said?"

"I don't know," said Bookshire. "I hope not."

--

Rex had set his ship's computer to provide a running countdown until the time when the Earth ships would supposedly fire on Mobius. He glanced down as he pursued an Earth fighter. It was at just under two minutes and counting. Riptos had been acting as if his mind were only halfway connected to his body after the Earth admiral made her announcement. His maneuvers were slow and erratic, and he didn't fire. Rex wondered if he were on the edge of an emotional breakdown. He broke off his pursuit of the enemy fighter and patched his comm link in to Orbital Station 12, on an encrypted channel so that Riptos wouldn't overhear. "This is Jesus to OS 12 command, do you copy," he said. "Jesus" had been the call sign he used when communicating with people other than intimate friends within his squadron. He had been given the call sign because he had the surname Christensen, which created "Jesus Christensen", which wasn't too far off from "Jesus Christ".

"Roger that, Jesus, this is command. Would you care to explain why you are using an encrypted channel without authorization?"

"Command, I think my superior officer is starting to become irrational. The city they announced as their first target is where his family lives, and it seems to be getting to him. He's not paying attention to his surroundings and he was in great emotional distress the last time I spoke to him. I fear for his mental state, his safety, and our safety. I think the most prudent course of action would be to withdraw him from the field. I used an encrypted comm link to prevent him from eavesdropping, because he is not in a right state of mind and I don't know what he'd do if he heard what I was saying.

"We understand your concerns, but Admiral Leinonen will not allow any of our forces to be withdrawn without his explicit authorization unless they are a casualty. A single pilot is not worth taking it all the way to him. We are tracking your commander now and he indeed seems to be acting strangely. Keep an eye on Commander Calavera, and if he snaps, you are authorized to use your disruptors to disable his fighter so that he may be taken back to base for treatment.

"Yes, sir. Jesus out."

Mere seconds after he finished his conversation with command, Rex heard Riptos over the comm link. The commander's voice was shaky, his eyes wide and darting. "Rex," said Riptos. "I got a sensor lock on the Earth flagship. They're powering up weapons! They're going to do it, Rex. I don't know what to do."

"Please, Riptos, sir, calm down. You're not being yourself. Look, Riptos, I was on the line with station command. It hurts me to say this, but if you don't return to your senses, I will have to relieve you of your command. Please, don't make me do this."

"Do what? Shoot out my ship's engines?" Riptos seemed to be on the edge of madness. "I would like to see you try. We have been friends for a long time, Rexy, but I will do what I must, even if it means I have to..." Riptos trailed off as if he couldn't quite bring himself to say that he would open fire on his best friend. I'm sorry, Rex, but I have a higher calling. You have command now, old friend."

"Riptos, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to stop them from destroying the city and killing my wife and children. Tell Elena...that I love her."

"No, Riptos! Don't do this!"

Rex watched Riptos hit his afterburners and blast off towards the massive Earth ship that was bearing down on Liberty Gorge.

"Riptos!" Rex shouted again. There was no answer.

"He's lost it, Rex," said Pinky. "Don't try to pursue him, he has a big head start and, even if you could catch him, I've seen the results of the simulator matches between you and him. I know how much you care about Riptos. You're going to have to fill his role now. We need a leader, Rex."

"Why did he do it, Pinky?"

"Because he loves his family. Of course, it wasn't a very smart move, but you saw how messed up he was. Come on, Rex, we need you now."

"All right. This is Rex to all pilots. I'm taking command of this squadron. Continue your standing objectives. Let us make our leader, our commander, our friend proud that he served alongside us.

"For Riptos," said Pinky.

"For Riptos!" the entire squadron echoed as they broke formation to intercept the next bomber wave.

--

"T minus 40 seconds to firing," said Townswell. This was the moment she had been waiting for. What she was about to do was ruthless and blatantly illegal, but she had to break the back of the Mobian Federation.

"T minus 35 seconds. Acquire target."

"T minus 30 seconds. Report cannon function."

"Forward particle guns operational," said Captain Ndele. Ready to fire.

"T minus 20 seconds."

"T minus fift--"

"We have incoming!" shouted Ndele. "One Mobian fighter, on a direct vector towards cannon number 1."

"Is that man insane?" shouted Admiral Townswell. "Shoot him down and put it out of his misery."

"Yes, ma'am. Firing point defense turrets."

A hail of particle cannon fire rose to meet the speeding Mobian fighter. It moved so fast Admiral Townswell could not track it on the screen. In space, one could accelerate indefinitely, and this brave soul must have been on full burn for quite some time."

"The bogey is no longer on sensors. I think we got him," said Captain Ndele.

"Good. We are behind schedule. Commence bombardment in five, four, three, two, one, mark!"

At the admiral's mark, Captain Ndele deactivated the cannon locks and the entire front half of the _Arizona_ exploded.

--

"Rex!" shouted Pinky. "I think Riptos did it! The whole front end of the Earther's flagship blew up."

"Holy shit," said Rex. "How did that happen?"

"I don't know, but it happened just as they were about to fire. The city's still there, nothing happened to it."

"That's unbelievable," said Rex. But his elation soon turned into sorrow. "I don't know about you, Pinky, but I don't think Riptos will make it back from that."

"I don't think Riptos did that with the intention of coming home to a hero's welcome, Rex," said Pinky. "Will you be the one to report it to his family?"

"I guess I have to," said Rex. "But I wish it didn't have to end that way. I've always admired Riptos. When I was down he would always be there for me. He was like a big brother, really, only better. I've never had a friend quite like him. I loved him, and I don't think I'm gay for saying that."

"I'm gay, and I don't think you're gay for saying that," said Pinky. "I feel like hugging you, Rex."

"I don't think that will be necessary. Not from you, at any rate. Just think of what Deathwish would say."

"Deathwish can kiss my ass," said Pinky.

"That one's for Riptos!" shouted Rex as he ripped apart an Earth fighter with a burst from his particle cannons.

"They're all for Riptos," said Pinky. "Let's make these bastards bleed, Rex."

"Yes," said Rex as confidence swelled inside him. "No mercy."

--

"--and only minutes after the destruction of their flagship by a single Mobian fighter in a daring suicide mission, the Earth fleet declared a ceasefire and began a massive pullout of all Earth assets from all territory formerly held by the Mobian Federation. Citizens are dancing in the streets, waving anti-Earth flyers, and celebrating the end of the war that has taken the lives of so many of our people."

The news anchor's word pierced Adrian's sedative-clouded, half-conscious mind like a spear. The war was over. The Earthers were gone. He would live to go home. He did not know how long it had been since he woke up in the infirmary from his drug-induced sleep. Maybe Dexter sedating him wasn't so bad after all. It might have saved him from going nuts.

He was aware of a hand on his forehead and looked up to see Bookshire standing over him and smiling. "Looks like you're coming around quite nicely. You should be up and about in half an hour or so." Bookshire placed a pill and a glass of water on the table at Adrian's bedside. "Take that if you get a headache. I'll be back in a little while to check on how you're doing. Would you like me to keep the lights dimmed?

"Yes," Adrian mumbled as he shifted in bed. "Is it really over? The war?"

"Yes it is. You're safe now, Adrian. If you need anything, you can use the buzzer to bring a nurse over."

Adrian nodded and buried his face in the pillow. Even the low light of his room stung his eyes. He felt like his slender frame now weighed a thousand pounds. Even breathing took effort. For the moment, he was content to lie in bed under the care of Bookshire and the nurses. He was certainly better than his idiot pupil.

--

The remaining eighteen members of the Green Dragons walked down the corridors of Orbital Station 12, exhausted, their spirits all but broken. Almost half of their number were lost to the enemy, they had watched thousands of their comrades die, and nearly seen the deaths of millions of innocent civilians.

And Riptos was dead.

Riptos had always been the driving force behind the Green Dragons, the rock that their morale rested upon. Now that he was gone, they were shattered, diminished, crushed by their grief and confusion. Riptos was more than just a commander, he was like a father to all his men. The Green Dragons loved Riptos, and now they had to carry on without him. It was a terrible blow.

With a heavy heart, Rex parted from the group, along with Skitz, whom he had chosen to fill his old role as the commander's wingman. His new commander rank insignia felt like they were forged from lead. For most pilots, a promotion was a boon—more money, more authority, more respect. But for Rex, it was a burden. To replace Riptos, to practically become Riptos, was Rex's new task and a daunting one indeed. Riptos seemed like a natural leader, with his powerful, stocky build, a voice that could move mountains, and a charisma that the lanky, quiet Rex utterly lacked.

He climbed up into Riptos's old bunk, feeling utterly spent. When the scent of his old comrade on the sheets and blanket reached his nostrils, Rex curled up and cried.  



	17. What Price Freedom?

**Chapter Sixteen: What Price Freedom?**

"_A doctor sitting next to me  
He asked me how I feel  
Not sure I understand his questioning  
He says I've been away a while  
But thinks he has cured me  
From a state of catatonic sleep_

For thirty years  
Where have I been  
Eyes open  
But not getting through to me

Medicate me   
Infiltrate me  
Side effects appear  
As my consciousness slips away"

--Dream Theater - Octavarium

Riptos groaned as he opened his eyes, feeling a crushing, dull ache that filled his entire body. He didn't have the strength to sit up or even hold his head up. Night-light strips along the floor and ceiling of the room he was in cast the room in a dim blue light. The caduceus adorning the ceiling and the tube that was in his throat made it clear that he was in a hospital room.

Even moving his eyes to look around the room seemed to take all the strength in his body. A calendar hung on the wall near his bed, displaying the date. December 15, 2566. It had been four days since the battle for Mobius, four days since he had decided to eject from his fighter as it hurtled towards the Earth flagship. The fighters autopilot carried it down the barrel of the enemy ship's main cannon. Seconds later, the ship had exploded and the blast wave had knocked him unconscious.

He surveyed the various machines that were hooked up to him. A ventilator sent air into his lungs through a breathing tube. An IV drip slowly dribbled nutrients, medication, and fluids into a vein in his arm. Electrode leads on his chest and arms were connected to wires that ran into a heart monitor, across which a twitching green line scrolled perpetually. A brace held his back rigid, which meant that his spine was probably damaged. With great effort, he reached up, and pulled the breathing tube out of his own throat, gagging and coughing as he did so. He gasped a few times before his breathing steadied. With the horrible feeling of a rubber tube in his throat banished, a new sensation reached his mind, or rather, lack of sensation.

He could not feel his legs or anything below his waist, nor could he move his lower body. It was as if half of his body were dead. Then he remembered the back brace. Spinal fractures. Nerve damage. _Paralysis_.

_Oh shit! _was his first thought as he grabbed the buzzer on his nightstand and pressed the button frantically. Within seconds, Bookshire dashed into the room.

"Riptos?" Bookshire said. "You're awake?"

"Of course I'm awake, you fool!" Riptos groaned. His eyes were wide, and sweat dripped down the bare skin of his muzzle and chest. His mind raced with panic.

"Did you take that breathing tube out yourself?"

"_Shut up and listen to me!_"

"All right, all right, what's wrong?" Bookshire said as he placed a hand on Riptos's chest. "Please calm down."

"I...I can't feel my legs. It's like there's nothing there!"

Bookshire discreetly took out a small vial of diluted sedative medication and emptied its contents into the bag containing Riptos's IV solution. "You need to get control of yourself, Riptos. Relax. Breathe in deeply. That's it. So you can't feel your legs."

Riptos was a bit more coherent now, probably because of the drugs. "No. I have no sensation in my legs, my feet, or my buttocks. I noticed the back brace, and then I kind of put two and two together. Oh, God, Bookshire, tell me that this isn't what I think it is."

Bookshire let out that particular kind of sigh he always made when he was about to deliver bad news. "Riptos, when we found you in your ejection pod, several pieces of equipment in the cockpit had come loose, and one of them hit you in the lower back and...broke your spine. The nerves there are destroyed. You can't feel your legs because you are paralyzed from the waist down."

For Riptos, it seemed as if time stopped at the moment Bookshire finished his sentence. His stomach churned. His head pounded. He felt like vomiting. A terrible understanding entered Riptos's mind. He would never fly again. He would never walk again. He would never even be able to control his own bowels again. His career and his life as a productive, independent person were over. A couple of tears rolled down his face, and then he started to cry.

Bookshire stroked Riptos's head, knowing no words could console his friend. The black hedgehog was always proud of always being the one others turned to, the rock that supported his friends and family. Now that was gone, and his spirit was broken just as surely as his spine. "I'm sorry," said Bookshire at last. "We've already contacted your family. Elena is on her way here right now. Rex has been worried sick about you, and I'm sure he'll want to see you.

The emotional pain that hit Riptos when he thought of Rex was so terrible that he could almost feel it in his flesh and bones. "When I was coming unhinged and about to attack the Earth flagship, I...threatened him when he tried to reason with me. I threatened to kill a man I had known and loved as a brother for years, who had put his complete trust in me! How can I look him in the eyes?" He started to cry again.

"You weren't in a sound state of mind when you said those things, Riptos, and I still don't think you are right now. Rex doesn't hold anything against you, and he wants very badly to see you. Please talk to him. I'm sure he'll understand."

"I'll try," said Riptos. "I feel like shit. I'm paralyzed, my future is destroyed, and I almost murdered my best friend in cold blood. December 15, huh? Only ten days from Christmas. Merry fucking Christmas."

"Riptos, paralysis doesn't necessarily mean that you'll never be able to do anything for the rest of your life. There are many, many things that you can still do if you summon the will to try to do them. But I think we should leave that for later. I put a sedative in your IV drip that should keep you calm. Just get some rest and we'll talk this over again when Elena gets here, OK?"

"Fine."

"I'll see you again in a few hours. Rex will probably come to see you soon."

"I can't believe I cried right in front of you. Like a little fucking girl."

"I've seen many people cry, Riptos, and I've seen people cry much longer and harder than you did. Don't feel so bad about it. It's a release, and letting those emotions go is a good thing. I'm not going to look down on you for seeing you cry when you're in such a terrible state. Bookshire wiped the tears off Riptos's face with a towel held in one hand, and rubbed him between the ears with his other hand. "I know how hard it must be for you right now. If you need anything from me, even if it's just a shoulder to cry on, you can ring that buzzer and I'll be right over."

"Thank you, Bookshire."

"You're welcome," said Bookshire as he stroked Riptos's head. "Rest well." He pulled the covers up over his friend's shoulders and turned to leave the room.

"Just one more thing," said Riptos. "What happened in the battle after I blacked out?"

"We're not quite sure. The Earthers just left without any explanation. The war is now over, and Mobius is still free. Don't worry about it. Keep your mind on getting better. Use the buzzer if you need anything." Bookshire left the room, closing the door behind him.

Feeling a little better after Bookshire comforted him, Riptos closed his eyes and tried to relax as best he could despite the dull ache that seemed to come from everywhere, or at least every place whose nerves were still connected to his brain. He wondered how he could carry on with his life after this. For certain, his life would now be vastly different from what it was.

--

Adrian lay on the couch in his room, naked under the blanket draped over him. He and Stacy had decided to go to his quarters instead of hers. Memories of things that had happened after that shone brighter than the sun in his mind, the afterglow of carnal knowledge leaving him dazed. She got up and left almost immediately after it was over, as if they had just had a quick chat. How could anyone do that? Their encounter had left him nearly catatonic.

Of course, now that the war was over, he would have to return to Mobius within a few days. But before then, he would make a call he had wanted to make for months. He picked up the phone on the end table and called his parents.

"Hello?" said his mother, Natalie Spencer, as she answered the phone.

"Hi, Mom," said Adrian. "They finally restored phone service between Earth and Mobius. It's kind of strange to see the war just end suddenly like this. I've made it through it all safe and sound, before you ask."

"It's so good to hear you're all right, honey," said Natalie. "You sound like you're pretty tired."

"I had trouble sleeping for a while after the battle because I was a bit shaken up," Adrian lied. He wasn't going to tell his mother that he had just had sex with a woman he had barely met. "I'm fine, and they've ended the station lockdown, so I'll be back on Mobius in a couple of days. God, I want to get out of this can."

"How was it aboard the station? Being locked in a space station for five months doesn't sound very pleasant."

"Boring. They had requisitioned most of the network infrastructure for the military, so I only had some basic services on the computer. Drinking was the only real thing to do there, although I managed to avoid doing it too much. And I also made a friend."

"Oh? Who is he?"

"His name is Rex Christensen. He's one of the fighter pilots, and a really nice guy. He also grew up on Earth. Maybe I could get him to visit you with me one day. How does that sound?"

"I think it would be wonderful, Adrian."

"There's also something else I want to talk to you about. Rex first brought this up with me, and I've been thinking about it a lot ever since. I've always had the feeling that I've not been doing enough with my life, and that I've never really had any goals besides finding a job that makes a lot of money. I guess I just don't feel fulfilled by the way I've lived my life so far. What I'm really trying to say is that I'm seriously considering joining the navy through the officer training corps."

"What? Are you serious?"

"I'm absolutely serious. My plan is to become a physician assistant, which would require four years of college as opposed to six to become a doctor, and if I want, I can attend proper medical school and get my MD later. Since it would be in the military, I wouldn't have to do residency."

"Oh, Adrian, why the military? What if you get hurt? There are millions of people in the military who died in this war, Adrian. I don't want that to happen to you." Natalie sounded horrified by the prospect.

"And there are millions of civilians who died as well," said Adrian. "I'm sick of being afraid of everything, mom. Afraid of meeting people, afraid of going into the world, afraid of my own shadow. I feel like a prisoner in a prison I built myself."

"But why do you have to resolve this by joining the military? Don't you know how dangerous that is?"

"Mom, we just came out of a huge war. Both us and the Earthers are in no position for another. Can't you calm down instead of worrying about me constantly? I'll be all right, I promise."

"Please take care of yourself, honey. You know how much you mean to me and especially your father."

"So how is Dad doing?" said Adrian as he wrapped his blanket more tightly around himself for warmth.

"He's been doing fine, although he wasn't so happy about his boss deciding that the company should contribute to the Earth war machine. I'm sure he'll be very happy to know you're all right. Would you like me to ask him to call you when he comes home from work?"

"Sure. Well, I think I'd better get some rest. Bye."

"Good-bye, honey. Take care."

"Of course." He put the phone back up on the hook and curled up, waiting for sleep to rise up and take him.

--

Riptos looked up as he heard someone walking into the room. Rex was walking over to him, and he immediately noticed his old friend's new commander insignia. "Commander Christensen, huh?" said Riptos. "Too bad I couldn't have been the one to pin that badge to your chest."

"And I suppose you're now Mister Calavera," said Rex. "I'm sorry about what happened to you. I can't imagine what it must have been like to go through something like that."

"No," said Riptos. "I'm the one who should be sorry, for what I said to you before I attacked that Earth ship. I feel like such an asshole. We had fought together and put so much trust in each other, and I threatened you like that. How could I do such a thing? Oh, Rex, I'm so sorry!" He started to cry, unable to stop the tears from flowing.

"It's all right," said Rex. "I understand completely. It's all in the past now, Riptos. Don't be so hard on yourself. I can't forgive you, as there is nothing to forgive."

"Truly?" said Riptos, his eyes widening.

"Truly," said Rex, stroking Riptos's head.

"If I could get up, I'd hug you right now."

"I think any hugging should wait until your back heals up, or heals as much as it can at any rate. By the way, Captain Parks has authorized me to give you something?

"What is it?"

Rex pulled out a small box similar to a jewelry box and opened it. Inside was the Mobian Legion of Honor, the highest decoration that could be awarded to a Mobian soldier or officer. "Congratulations, Riptos."

"Oh my God." Riptos gingerly picked up the medal and examined it. "I...I'm speechless."

Rex placed the medal back in its box. "I'll put it in your nightstand for safekeeping. You've also been awarded the Mobius Victory Star, just like everyone else who participated in the battle."

"This was no victory. It was an act of mercy."

"I know. But still, it's not every day you get two medals at once, never mind a Legion of Honor and another medal. You're a hero, Riptos."

"I don't feel like a hero."

"A lot of people who do great things don't feel like they accomplished anything great. Just trust me on this one. The people of Liberty Gorge owe their lives to you."

"Please God don't let them interview me."

"Well, that's between you, your family, and the press. They've been talking about you constantly on the news."

"Just what I wanted, to become a helpless crippled man being harassed by journalists. Why don't you put some cyanide in my IV?"

"Don't let everything get you down like this, Riptos. You're like a brother to me, and it hurts me to see you like this. This can only destroy your life if you let it do so. If you need me, I'll be there for you. We may no longer be comrades in the military, but you're still my best friend, and I'm here to support you just like you've supported me all these years."

Riptos felt strange, as if all of his emotional controls had crumbled away, and he was being led on a roller coaster of emotions, through despair, guilt, joy, and a feeling of intimate friendship he had never before known. He took Rex's hand in his and said the only words that seemed to do justice to his feelings. "I love you, Rex," said Riptos, as more tears rolled down his face. His feelings for Rex differed in kind from his feelings for his wife and children, but not in degree.

Rex smiled and gently scratched Riptos behind the ears. He had received this gesture from Riptos many times, but this was the first time he had returned it, now that he was the one providing support. "You're going to be back home with your family soon. Just focus on recovering for now, and then decide what you want to do with your life after that. You're the best friend I've ever had, and I'll never abandon you. This I swear."

"Thank you, Rex," said Riptos as Rex pulled the covers up to his shoulders. "How much longer do you have to spend with me?"

"I'm off duty for the next few days until the squadron gets fresh officers to replace the people we lost. I'll be here as long as you need me."

Riptos felt a crushing fatigue fill his body as he lay with Rex sitting by his bedside. His conversation with Rex had left him emotionally exhausted, and his mind drifted in and out of focus. He could not reckon how long he lay there half-conscious until he finally fell asleep, no longer aware that Rex had himself fallen asleep, slumped over in his chair.


	18. Nothing's the Same Anymore

**Epilogue: Nothing's the Same Anymore**

"_These constellations  
Gleaming at us from afar  
They give rise to frigid memories  
In my mind  
My stellar mementos are the brightest  
Signs that twinkle away_

Infinity, the Faustian spirit,  
Disheartened, by all  
I will never get up there alone  
But still I will always percieve  
Their company  
I honor the farthest fall  
His fall, I, I... "

--Arcturus – The Bodkin and the Quietus

Adrian looked around his living room, his possessions packed into boxes around him. Now that he was to join the military and spend four years in a dormitory with minimal pay until his training was complete, he would have to sell his house and much of the things in it. He had already given his stereo system to Rex, unwilling to sell the thing he treasured most to a stranger. He sat down on one of the boxes and sighed, wondering if he had any idea what he was really getting into.

The sun was setting out the window, as if to symbolize the end of his life as a civilian. His application had already been accepted, so there was no turning back. The naval college would not allow him to bring much—two changes of street clothes for when he was off duty, some books and music, soap and other toiletries, and a portable music player. Everything else he needed would be issued to him.

He had had his twenty-second birthday only a few days ago, and he all of a sudden felt years older. He could no longer drift through life, searching for a bigger and better paycheck. By joining the military, he would put down an anchor, something to stabilize his life

He picked up the duffel bag that held the things he was taking and walked outside, where the recruitment officer was waiting for him.

"Well, are you ready?" the recruiter said.

Adrian nodded and boarded the bus, sitting down on one of the hard vinyl seats. The bus reeked of sweat and fear, and the young men around him looked just as nervous and uneasy as he was.

Adrian looked upon his old house one last time as the bus pulled away.

--

Riptos lay in his bed, resting after hours of occupational and physical therapy. The therapy sessions were always exhausting for him as the therapists tried to help him wring every last bit of function he could out of his broken body. He went to therapy three times a week, and stayed there for as long as he could endure. He could now sit up unassisted, but he still could not control his lower body or control his bowels for more than a few seconds.

Sometimes he tried to comfort himself by reminding himself that he was better off than some of the other patients he had seen in therapy. Some were quadriplegics, unable to move anything from the neck down (or move anything at all, in the case of one poor raccoon who had a halo brace screwed into his head to completely immobilize him). Riptos could now bathe in a tub instead of being scrubbed down by Elena, now that he could sit up, although he would still have to rely on Elena to help him manage his "incontinence equipment", as the doctors euphemistically termed it, and clean him up whenever the inevitable consequences of incontinence manifested themselves.

Riptos' children were understandably shocked when they learned what had happened to him, and even more so when they actually saw him. His daughter Katja had cried inconsolably for days, and his son Ryudo expressed his sorrow more subtly, becoming gloomy and despondent. It had taken weeks for them to fully adjust to and accept the new situation with their family.

Riptos looked over at the doorway as Ryudo walked into the room. The boy had obviously been out for a swim, as he was wearing swim trunks and his brown fur was somewhat damp. "Hey, Dad," he said as he came over to Riptos' bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Dog tired," said Riptos. He reached up and brushed his fingers through the fur on Ryudo's lower back. "Damn, I miss swimming."

"I feel so sorry for you," said Ryudo as he knelt to be on eye level with his father.

"Don't be," said Riptos, brushing the long spines trailing from Ryudo's head to rub him between the shoulder blades. "We all have to make sacrifices sometimes. My sacrifice was bigger than most. I did it for you, your sister, and your mother, and now I have to live with the consequences. I know you've had a hard time coping with it all. Don't hesitate to talk to me or your mother if you need support. It's not a good thing to bottle it all up inside."

"Dad?"

"Yes."

"I love you."

"And I love you, too. Now, I think you should go take a shower to wash the chlorine out of your fur. I need my rest anyway. I've had a hard day." Riptos drew his son closer to kiss him on the forehead and then let him go.

As Ryudo left the room, Riptos rolled onto his side, dragging his useless legs along with his torso, and drew the blanket over his shoulders. Soon it would be time for him to find a new path in life. For months, he had not left his house except for going to therapy. The isolation was getting to him.

And besides, there was a whole universe out there.

With a sigh, Riptos closed his eyes and fell asleep, letting dreams carry him away. "Nothing's the same anymore," he said as he drifted out of consciousness.

_Here ends Chaos Rising._


End file.
